Another Path
by Dr Spleenmeister
Summary: A dangerous Pon Farr, a fractured bond and a Federation on the brink of war; some love stories are just not all that straight forward. S/U
1. Prologue: T'Pring

**AN**: This story has been a long time in the making and I am very grateful for those people who have been waiting patiently for me to post. The girls at **WA** have been infinitely supportive and enlightening, without them I never would have gotten this anywhere near as cohesive, so thank you ladies!

* * *

**Another Path**

Prologue

**T'Pring**

It was an outwardly placid seventeen year old Spock who sat serenely on a seat in the embassy anteroom, awaiting the arrival of his father's guests. His back was straight, his expression pleasantly neutral and his hands were folded neatly in his lap.

Resting on a small end table by his elbow there stood a dainty flower from his mother's nursery, safely encased within an atmospheric containment field. The flower was to be a gift to his betrothed, the famously beautiful T'Pring, daughter of Sappor - who in turn was a member of the council of elders. Sappor and Spock's father had arranged the betrothal between he and T'Pring while they both were still younglings. Spock was grateful for his father's foresight; not only had he spared Spock the discomfort of having to court and screen potential mates, but he had also secured for his son the most highly regarded beauty on Vulcan.

Spock's mother on the other hand, had quietly opposed the arrangement that the men in her life were so content with, from the moment it had been put into place. She firmly believed that Spock should be free to make his own choice of wife, the same way that Sarek had. Worryingly, she had heard murmurs from her female acquaintances that not only was the daughter of Sappor beautiful, but she had also inherited her father's wandering eye. Amanda knew that Spock was determined on marrying T'Pring, exactly as his father wished, but she feared the Vulcan would use the fact that Spock sometimes thought with his heart - rather than his logic - against him.

Spock shifted imperceptibly in his seat, attempting to still his nerves. T'Pring _was _beautiful and every time they met for their chaperoned visits, he felt something completely unrelated to Logic stir within him. He was always conscious of the eyes of the older Vulcans on them during these visitations and he was constantly worried that he would do something to embarrass himself or his father. He hoped that today, on the occasion of their tenth meeting, the elders would allow them a moment alone; he planned to ask her permission to use the ozh shok-tor, the two fingered gesture of affection. He had become extremely fond of T'Pring and was keen to show her his regard in the traditionally acceptable manner.

His tummy roiled and he swallowed. Just the _thought _of touching his beloved in such a way was filling him with nerves.

Associating the Standard word of 'beloved' to T'Pring may have been a little premature, but Spock was - as his mother would have said in her peculiarly Terran vernacular - falling for her. He was not so far gone that he would think of her as his _ashayam_, but the far less emotionally charged Terran equivalent was, he felt, appropriate.

The sound of soft chimes filled the air, heralding the arrival of T'Pring and her escort and Spock bolted to his feet, almost knocking the flower off the table with his surge of motion. Quickly smoothing down his robes, he took a deep, calming breath and forced his face to be free of the excitement fluttering in his middle.

The doors to the anteroom opened; Spock's heart leapt into his throat and remained there. She was even more lovely than he remembered. The hint of a shy smile threatened at the corner of her pouting lips and the robes she wore today were a particularly flattering shade of cream. She moved towards him and came to a halt two feet away, her hand raised in greeting.

"Peace and long life, Spohck." Her soft, whispery caress of his name kicked his heart back into motion and it returned to his middle, where it thumped madly against his ribs.

He returned the greeting, forcing himself to remain stoic as he did so. "Live long and prosper, T'Pring." He lowered his hand and gestured genteelly to the sofa. She inclined her head slightly in thanks and moved to sit.

Spock sat beside her and looked up at the lady who had accompanied his wife to be. "It is gratifying to see you again, T'Shar. May I request a moment in solitude with your charge?"

The middle aged Vulcan woman raised an eyebrow but Spock - ever in tune to the subtleties of Vulcan displays of emotion - could detect a twinkle in her eye as she responded coolly, "I am to see that Mistress T'Pring comes to no harm while away from the safety of Elder Sappor's domicile."

"I can assure you, T'Shar, no harm shall befall T'Pring while she is in my presence." A note of territorial defensiveness had slipped unconsciously into his voice and he was partly embarrassed, partly pleased that the older woman picked up on it as she nodded slowly.

"Very well. I will be nearby." She nodded to the balcony of the room, it would afford the two young lovers a degree of privacy if she spent a moment upon it, while still leaving her well within range if she were needed.

Spock nodded his thanks and waited until she was out of earshot before turning to T'Pring, carefully hiding his eagerness.

"I have a gift for you." He turned and picked up the containment unit. The flower swayed happily as it was proudly presented to it's new owner. T'Pring took the gift and rotated the containment unit around in her hands, examining the bloom from all angles.

"An intriguing plant. What is its function?"

Spock fought back a pleased smile. "My mother grows them, it is called a rose. It has no function other than to look aesthetically pleasing."

She raised an eyebrow. "It is a plant from Earth, yes?"

He nodded.

"I see. That explains much." She put the flower down on the floor by her feet and returned her cool gaze to his. "Thank you for the gift."

Glossing over her lack of positive reaction to the gesture, Spock pressed forward with the next step in his plan to fully win her over. "I have a request to make of you, T'Pring."

She cocked her head curiously. "Indeed?"

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he did not attempt to speak knowing that he would most likely squeak like a pubescent teenager if he did. Actions would speak where words could not: he held up his right hand with the first two fingers extended. T'Pring's eyes widened infinitesimally before flickering to the balcony where T'Shar had exited the room. Once she was certain that they could not be seen, she raised her hand to meet his. Their fingers touched and Spock had to inhale very slowly in order to maintain his cool.

It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Dainty tendrils of sensation crept down his arm, into his core and coiled around his heart. His soul sang, this was what he had hoped for, he and T'Pring could love one another, they could-

T'Pring broke the contact. Her hand shot into the safe confines of her voluminous sleeve as T'Shar re-entered the room. Calm and composed, she was the emotionless Vulcan that Spock could only hope to be; his heart pounded in his middle and he was sure that his cheeks had flushed a deep green as T'Shar swept them both with an assessing gaze. The older woman looked at him and raised an eyebrow while he struggled to conceal his reaction to the shok-tor.

"Come, T'Pring. Your father awaits you."

T'Pring rose from the sofa, kicking over her rose with the movement. She bowed her head to Spock, who had risen with her, and moved to follow T'Shar out of the room, making no attempt to collect the now horizontal Terran bloom.

Spock looked down at the fallen flower. The containment field had been compromised and away from the safety of Amanda's nursery, the rose quickly wilted in the overpowering Vulcan heat. He sighed and crouched, retrieving the discarded gift before leaving to return home. It was a shame that T'Pring's robes had caught the flower and killed it, but accidents happened.

At least they had finally been allowed to experience the shok-tor. Despite himself, Spock smiled slightly, he wondered if T'Pring was as happy as he. He certainly would have trouble focussing on his studies for the rest of the day.

*

Six months later, Spock left Vulcan for Starfleet Academy. Four years after that he returned home, to find that the woman he had waited for had not waited for him.

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**AN**: Next: Chapter 1, the academy years.


	2. Chapter 1: Starfleet Academy

**AN**: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review so far, your thoughts are like the strawberry creme in my, um, Strawberry Creme...

I am currently writing this with a kitten that thinks it's a parrot perched on my shoulder, so if some of it comes out like a purr, you know why...

ETA: To save confusion, I've altered Spock's age in the prologue.

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**Another Path**

Chapter 1

**Academy - Part 1**

**Spock**

_Starfleet Academy._

_Midnight._

The main San Francisco campus of Starfleet Academy was always quiet at this time of night, with only the instinctively nocturnal or the overly stressed and restless students awake and roaming the darkened halls. In the Strategic Simulation Programming block an exception to this rule sat rapidly working a dimly lit work station. The usually perfect posture of the programmer was very slightly hunched, the only telltale sign of the amount of time that he had been working.

Nimble fingers flew as if possessed over the control panel as dark eyes zipped back and forth between readings and figures. Alone in the programming suite, the owner of the eyes and fingers allowed himself a tiny quirk of the lips, satisfied that no cadet would ever beat this feat of programming genius. Finalising the exhaustive stream of data filling the screen that would have befuddled any average engineer, the programmer hit the 'submit' key with the sort of flourish never displayed in front of his colleagues. Sitting back in his seat and confident that no-one was around to see, he smirked at the screen; his Kobayashi Maru scenario was absolutely flawless, yet again there was no way to beat it.

Rising from the seat that had held the imprint of his posterior for the last fifteen straight hours, he shut down the terminal, turned off the lights and headed out of the suite, locking the building down behind him. He boarded an inner-campus transport and chose, in deference to his aching lower half, to stand rather than sit, despite the fact that the vehicle was empty of passengers. The initial test-run of his version of the assessment scenario would be first thing in the morning, and despite his fatigue he could barely wait to savour his inevitable victory.

Arriving at the housing block used by the academy instructors, he found one of his brightest xenolinguistics students waiting for him in the lobby. Forcing his tired frame into it customary ramrod perfection, he nodded politely in greeting. "Good evening, Cadet Uhura. How may I be of assistance?" Taking his civil greeting as an invitation to expound, she launched into an explanation of why she was lurking in his building waiting for him, gesturing to the haphazard pile of heavy Andorian tomes and data PADDs in her arms as she did so.

Spock nodded along with her explanation, finding himself simultaneously charmed and exhausted by her exuberance. She paused for breath and he held up a hand to stop her. Cadet Uhura's gift for tongues was both a blessing and a curse; she was brilliant in her field, but she could talk the hind legs off of a Petalian gnork,and Spock was too tired to remain politely standing listening to her. He had been practically cross-eyed by the time he had finished with the Kobayashi program and he wanted nothing more right now than to return to his quarters and either meditate to calm his Vulcan side - which was still happily processing additional figures in his head - or put his feet up in capitulation to his Human half which was screaming for him to be horizontal. He did not wish to seem rude and he would usually encourage his students' enthusiasm, but not to the point where he would fall asleep on them. Being Vulcan did not make him invincible, he needed rest just like any other man.

"Cadet, this is fascinating, but may I respectfully request that we partake in this conversation another time? It is very late and I fear that I would not be at my most engaging." The hint of a proud smile twitched his lips as he stated simply, "I need to be at my best in order to debate properly with you, Cadet Uhura."

Blinking rapidly to stave off a very undignified yawn, he watched in mild amusement as Uhura looked down at her books in order to hide a flattered blush.

**Scotty**

_Starfleet Engineering Corps._

_0300 hours._

A pair of male, human eyes, indeterminate in colour, studied the miniscule inner workings of a failed phase inverter with an unnatural keenness. The owner of the eyes had been asked once what colour they actually were, to which he had irreverently responded 'slightly mutanty'. A pair of fair eyebrows slanted into a frown as they joined in the intense scrutiny of the guts of the poor device that lay on the bench like a patient before a surgeon. The tip of a tongue poked out of the corner of the engineer's mouth as he moved a pair of micro tweezers over the fractured lens...

Then sent the whole lot flying with a jolt as Ensign Keenser popped up beside the work bench with a loud chirrup of excitement, startling him.

"Bloody hell, Keenser! You wee menace, I almost had it!" He gazed mournfully at the scattered remains of phase inverter all over the floor. It would take him hours to reassemble it.

Keenser showed no sign of remorse as he grabbed the sleeve of Montgomery Scot's red engineer's uniform and all but dragged him over to the control panel where he had been working. Grimacing and spouting a steady stream of mild profanities at his assistant, Scotty allowed himself to be dragged to where the little alien had a complex schematic displayed on his terminal. Coming to a halt, Scotty stared blankly at the transporter schematic, trying to see what the hell Keenser was rabitting on about, until the other engineer hopped up onto a stool, took hold of the back of his head and pushed his face firmly against the screen.

"Zere!!" Squawked Keenser, in badly mangled Basic.

Scotty brushed the little alien off him, uncaring that he knocked him off the stool he had been perched on, and rubbed his bruised nose as he stared, his eyes widening in shocked delight.

"Keenser! You ruddy wonderful little creature, I could kiss you!"

Keenser obligingly puckered up his scaly lips from his prone position on the floor. Scotty poked him with his boot as he bounded past, dove into his swivel chair, spun on it with a flourish and began rapidly typing figures and equations into the simulator.

He watched the simulation run with one leg jiggling up and down in barely restrained excitement, his index finger tapping against his teeth as he did so. When the computer chimed its success, he whooped in glee and spun to face Keenser who had struggled to his feet.

"Right then, all we need now is a test subject..."

Keenser, recognising the maniacal gleam in Scot's eye as he fixed him with a calculating gaze - visually estimating Keenser's size-to-weight ratio - shook his head violently and quickly suggested an alternative.

Scotty grinned at his assistant's idea. "Admiral Archer's beagle, you say? Brilliant!"

**Chekov**

_Leningrad Academy of Applied Sciences_

_Late afternoon_

Pavel Andreievich Chekov was enjoying a rare moment of technology-free leisure time.

Chekov was not wise beyond his years, he was not a master theoretician and he was not a genius polymath. He was, however, unstoppable in the application of non-linear mathematics and his natural skill had led to his selection at a very young age to join the illustrious ranks of the Leningrad Academy Alum.

But he was still a boy, and boys like to daydream; so here he was stretched out on his back on the synthetically too-green grass of the ornamental lawn of the Academy's South wing. From the open windows of the building behind him, he could hear the gleeful whoops of his older peers as they practiced their hand-to-eye reflexes in the VR games room, but Pavel was not in the mood for losing himself in made up reality today.

He was quite content to lay on his back, watching the clouds drifting slowly overhead, and dreaming of a future above them.

**Sulu**

_Starfleet Academy_

_0800 hours_

Feint left...

Compensate for AOA...

Hard roll to port...

Balance the thrust and drag...

Cut to dead stop, let the other ship overshoot, lock onto his trail...

Fire!

Hikaru Sulu punched the air in victory as the final enemy ship on his radar exploded and fell from the simulated sky. He half-rose out of his seat, about to pull off his headset in celebration when the one-man simulator abruptly rocked under fire.

"What the hell?!"

"Sit down, Cadet." His instructor's voice sounded behind him. "You are still under attack."

Sulu threw himself back into the simulated dogfight, but it was too late, the simulation had him dead.

"_Kisama! Bakayaro!_"

"Language, Cadet." The instructor's voice sounded weary; this was not the first time that this particular, promising pilot-to-be had not finished what he started. Lieutenant Foss pinched the bridge of his nose, he was beginning to think that Hikaru Sulu had some sort of attention deficit disorder. He should probably recommend the bouncy little cadet for psychological evaluation.

**Kirk**

_The Legs Eleven nightclub, Iowa_

_0100 hours_

"Hey, Man, come on. I didn't know she was your girl, I swear!"

Jim Kirk backpedalled away from the human shit-house that was advancing on him. He couldn't help it if the hot Felusian girl had asked him to dance, and how was it his fault that he lost control of his hand? Didn't this behemoth know that he suffered from a rare case of Idle Hand? He couldn't be held accountable for his actions when his unfortunate condition decided to kick in.

"I been wantin' ter do dis fer a long time, Kirk." Huge, golf ball sized knuckles were cracked in preparation of facial impact.

Jim swallowed in fear as visions of his nose being blasted all over his face flashed before his eyes. "Jenko, come on man! Let me buy you a drink and we can forget this whole thing."

Jenko was not in the mood for drinking anymore and as one volleyball sized fist swung through the space where Jim's head had just been, the latter was once again inordinately grateful for his lightning reflexes. Scrambling out of the bar, Jim pumped as much adrenaline as he could into his legs and the sounds of angry yelling soon faded behind him.

**Bones**

_The McCoy Household, Mississippi_

_2300 hours_

Leonard McCoy had no wish to be cantankerous, it was not a character trait he had willingly embraced, but it was, unfortunately, one that he could not ignore.

Much to his wife's dismay.

"God damn it, Woman! I'm a doctor, not a calendar!"

Patricia McCoy's lips thinned into a quantum filament. "Leonard, I understand that you're busy, I understand that your patients need you, but what I don't understand is how every three hundred and sixty four days you lose an entire twenty four hours."

McCoy's brow furrowed and his gaze darkened. "Patricia..."

"One day, Leonard! One!" Her voice was shrill and he winced. How she could be in any doubt as to why he always managed to forget this date was quite beyond him. Clamping his teeth down onto his tongue, he forced himself not to retaliate, conscious of waking the child fast asleep directly above them. She took his silence as a sign that she was finally getting through to him, so she continued in a dangerous hiss. "I swear to you, Leonard McCoy, this had better be the last time your forget our wedding anniversary or it will be curtains for you!"

He reflexively glanced quickly at the old fashioned curtains hanging from a pole over the living room window -the ones that she had chosen without his consent - and realised that he had never really noticed how much they resembled vertical vomit.

**Uhura**

_Starfleet Academy_

_Midnight_

Nyota Uhura was slowly driving her room mate insane.

Gaila had tried everything to block out the grating, nasal sounds her friend had been making for the last hour, but to no avail. It wasn't that Gaila was intolerant of other species, far from it, in fact she rather enjoyed her xenosociology classes, but there was something about the Andorian language that absolutely irritated the crap out of her. Pulling her personal music player's ear pod out of her ears, she had to raise her voice to be heard in her own head.

"NYOTA, COULD YOU NOT DO THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE?"

Uhura jumped at her room mate's yell. "Huh? What's wrong?"

Gaila rubbed at her temples, more grateful for a lack of sound than she had ever been in her entire life. "Thank you. I'm sorry, Nyota, but I can't take the sound of that any more. Is there anywhere else you can practice?"

Uhura grimaced apologetically, "Sorry. The library is closed for the night."

Gaila made a face at her, "That's because only insane people work at this hour."

She laughed, closing down her PADD. "I guess you're right, but I have a test tomorrow and if I mess up the rhythm on the oral part of the assessment I'll fail."

"Is there NO-ONE whose place you could go to practice? Maybe someone who doesn't think of nails on a chalkboard when hearing Andorian? What about K'San? She's in your class for this, right?"

Uhura grimaced again, "She and I kind of aren't talking." She opened one of the books laying on the bed in front of her.

Gaila became frantic, clutching at anything and anyone she could think of as she saw Uhura take a breath to resume her torture. "Hey, what about Commander Spock?"

Uhura looked at her like she'd grown a second, pink, fluffy head, "Spock? I'm not going to see one of my teachers at this time of night!"

Gaila, sensing that she possibly had an out here, pushed. "Well why not? He said his door is always open, you told me yourself last week! Besides, Vulcans don't sleep as much as everyone else, he's probably sitting home bored out of his mind, just waiting for someone to come along and professionally torture his pointy little ears."

Uhura frowned, but Gaila would not be deterred from her efforts to salvage her sanity, and soon Uhura found herself sitting in the waiting area in the instructors' building after a quick trip to Commander Spock's quarters revealed his absence. This was ludicrous, what on Earth was she thinking letting Gaila brainwash her into coming here? She scowled, the sneaky little Orion had probably spritzed her with manipulative pheromones to soften her up. She rose to her feet and picked up her books in preparation for departure and her frown slowly deepened as she dwelled darkly on the many and varied ways that she could get back at Gaila for this.

The doors to the entranceway swished open, startling her out of her increasingly dark thoughts of revenge, and she froze guiltily as Commander Spock appeared in the doorway.

He greeted her politely and instead of making immediate excuses and leaving to murder her room mate, she launched into a hurried explanation as to her presence in his building.

"Commander Spock, I'm so sorry to bother you so late at night but as you know I have the Andorian assessment tomorrow. The problem is my roommate has kicked me out and I need somewhere to practice and she suggested I come here seeing as the library is closed, but I know this is a bad idea because you're my teacher and you can't give extra tuition outside of class the day before a test, that would be unfair, besides I think she put some mojo on me to get me out of the room; f you have a small study or something I could use, I promise not to get in your way, I just need somewhere to practice." Running out of oxygen she paused in her speech to take a breath and he held up a hand to stop her. It was as he spoke that she realised how tired he was.

She blinked. She'd never seen him tired.

And then he did the unthinkable.

He complimented her.

He complimented her and _smiled_.

Nyota Uhura had never been embarrassed in her life; she had always been a proud, strong, independent woman who did not need the praise of men to know she was good at what she did. But this was no ordinary man, this was Commander Spock, whose idea of praise was to tell students that they were marginally more intelligent than a Casetian meerkat. She felt heat rise up her neck and spill into her cheeks; unfamiliar with the reaction she was at a loss what to do, so she looked down, averting her gaze from his. Looking back up at him once she was sure the worst of the blush had passed, she smiled tentatively, genuinely pleased.

"Thank you, Sir." She moved to edge around him and towards the door. "I'll leave you in peace. I'm sure I'll be able to get enough practice in during my free period before class tomorrow. Goodnight." She turned her back to him and had just reached the threshold when his voice stopped her.

"Cadet Uhura, it is too late for me to help you with the Andorian module of this semester's requirements, but I would be willing to assist you with the Tellarite module scheduled for next term. If you would care to visit my office during school hours I can offer you any help you may need."

She grinned at him. "Thank you, Sir! That would be really helpful."

*

The following term, she did as Spock had suggested and visited him to work on her awful Tellarite - which would have been absolutely incomprehensible to a native speaker - and then once that module was done, she visited for help with Romulan, then Benzite. By the time they got to High Vulcan, they had established a comfortable friendship and when Nyota suggested they dine together one evening while they discussed Coridan philosophy, neither saw it as a prelude to anything else.

**-UFP-**

* * *

**Academy Part 2**

**Nyota**

It was well past seven in the evening by the time I left the language lab and headed back to the dorms. Spock and I had been working on my High Vulcan, which was both sucky and amazing; sucky because I can't pronounce High Vulcan for love nor money, amazing because Spock can.

Oh how he can.

I'd always known that Spock was a talented linguist - not to toot my own horn but he wouldn't be working with me if he wasn't - and naturally he was always going to be good at Vulcan, but...

Wow.

Luckily my feet were working on autopilot, because thinking about Spock speaking High Vulcan is very distracting and left to my own devices I would have wandered off in completely the wrong direction. Spock speaking true, proper Vulcan is a sight to behold, even to one as well travelled as me. His face doesn't move much when he does it, but it doesn't have to, the magic comes from his lips.

Tonight had marked a turning point in my High Vulcan training, he said that we had done enough ground work and that it was time for the real thing.

If I had known what the 'real thing' was, I would have insisted on it much sooner.

I watched as he swallowed a few times and rolled his head on his neck. He raised his chin, opened his mouth and then he rudely rocked my world. I had never heard anything like what I was hearing in that moment.

If I had ever harbored any doubts about the fact that Spock is in fact an alien, that moment had thoroughly squashed them. His face was placid, his brows drawn down, emphasising their swoop, and the sounds that were coming from his mouth were just... alien. His adams apple was bobbing frantically as the strangest blend of guttural and crisp vocalisations filled the air. A glaze had covered his eyes as he submerged himself fully in his Vulcanness. At that instant he was as alien as any alien I had ever seen.

I should have been horrified. I wasn't.

I tried to concentrate on what he was saying, tried to make sense of the discordant noise but all I could do was stare.

Spock's intelligence had always impressed me, his grasp of languages likewise, his ability to field any and all questions thrown his way and his unerring cool had built up a healthy respect in me. I respected Spock, but in that moment of Vulcan purity I realised something else; he was alone here. He was the only Vulcan working within the mostly-human Starfleet, when was the last time he had been able to converse with anyone the way his genetics demanded? When was the last time anyone had been able to listen?

In that moment I was determined to be the one to listen to him.

Making it back to the dorms on homing instinct alone, I slipped quietly into the room I share with Gaila and braced myself for the usual barrage of questions.

Gaila was seated comfortably on her bed, working on a PADD; she looked up at me as I dropped my bag by the foot of my bed. "Hey Yoyo, you're awful late, were you and Commander Spock trading tongues again?"

I sighed half in amusement, half in exasperation. "There's nothing like that going on between Commander Spock and I, how many times do I have to tell you?"

Gaila winked and smirked, "Once more, Yoyo, as always." She looked back down at her work and continued, "Besides, I only asked if you'd been 'languaging' at each other, you're the one who put the smut in there."

I harrumphed, "One day you'll get bored and stop bugging me about this."

She snorted, "I'll make you a deal: the day I wake up pink instead of green, I'll leave you and Commander lover-boy alone."

I must have spent a fifth of my time at the Academy attempting to convince my sex-crazed roommate that my relationship with Spock was purely platonic. I didn't dare tell her that I we had taken to dining together once a week, or that I suffer from the occasional, inappropriate dream abut him.

The dinner dates were not dates, they were a chance to discuss the latest hot topic around campus - the state of the planet Coridan's philosophically based war of all things. Nothing untoward ever happened, and nothing ever would; with Spock I can enjoy an attractive, intelligent, engaging man's company without the pressure of expectations, because there are none. He would never make a move on me even if he wanted to because of the rules against fraternisation, and I would never make a move on him - again, even if I wanted to - for fear of being turned down and ruining the professional relationship we've built up.

If I refuse to think of him in _that_ way, I'll be safe.

**Spock**

I find myself regarding Cadet Uhura with a wary eye. She has been progressing much more slowly on this extra module than on all the others, simply because there are no recordings for her to listen to. The selectively xenophobic nature of my people has led to a complete lack of commercially available material on the elite language of the elders. The only way for her to stand a chance of grasping this language is for me to speak it for her.

Therein lies a problem.

High Vulcan is not like the day to day Vulcan that every member of my race speaks, it requires ultimate control of one's internal auditory meatus, something that took me a good four years of solid study to master. Cadet Uhura is unquestionably skilled but can she handle this? She is most likely taking on far too great a task by adding the rarely chosen High Vulcan module to her already considerable work load. Added to that is the fact that she has probably not heard a language like this before, she may well be repelled if I speak it to her.

There again, is my problem.

I have found myself enjoying Cadet Uhura's company more and more of late. I have been acting as her personal tutor on the more advanced level languages she has been studying and we have discovered a compatibility in personalities. I would not call our professional relationship a fully fledged friendship - after all I am still her tutor - but she is easier to converse with than any other student under my tutelage, and we are like minded on many subjects. We have been dining together - on her suggestion - and I find that I am starting to develop an inappropriate attraction to her. This is unacceptable, so I have taken steps to eliminate it through meditation and discipline over my physiological responses when I am around her..

It is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.

So I take a gamble.

In our private session this evening I tell her that we have done enough ground work on the basics of High Vulcan and that she is now ready for the real thing. I ignore the way her eyes light up and remind myself of why I am doing this. I am fully aware of how bizarre this tongue sounds to human ears, after all, I have half a set myself. I hope that hearing such strange sounds coming from me will remind her of my alien nature.

She will be repelled. It is for the best.

It has been a long time since I have spoken true Vulcan, the pure language, the one unsoftened by the lingua franca of Federation Standard that every Vulcan speaks. I feel a tingle of anticipation in my belly; my ancestral language makes me feel more Vulcan than anything else I have experienced and despite the fact that Uhura will likely be negatively affected by the sounds I will make, I am strangely excited.

I raise my head, flex my neck and swallow a few times until I am happy that my vocal chords are loose enough. Opening my mouth and my throat, I speak.

She blinks.

My two halves, usually at perpetual, bitter war with one another, suddenly fall silent on one side. The Vulcan in me surges to the fore and for an instant of peace, fully eclipses the human.

As I speak I watch her watching me. She has not recoiled; this is both frustrating and perplexing. There is something going on behind her eyes, some thought is forming that I am not privy to.

I stop speaking and she blinks at me again.

Picking up her bag she takes the PADD we had been working on earlier up off the bench and puts it inside. With a quiet murmur of farewell she leaves and I am left alone with my thoughts.

Was my attempt to put a little distance between us successful? She did not appear to be as disturbed as I had hoped. Alone in the lab I grimace, my human half roiling angrily through me, both at being suppressed and at my failure.

Left to the mercy of my human urges I would be encouraging Cadet Uhura, not trying to keep her at an arms length. This is the reason why I so seriously considered completing the Kol'in'ar before my rebellion against the Vulcan Council.

That also was an impulse fueled by my human temper.

I had fully intended to enter the Vulcan Science Academy, despite the very tempting offer of study at Starfleet Academy and if it had not been for the elder's slight against my mother I would have remained on Vulcan. As it were, the very side of me that had gotten me into so much trouble as a child had roared to the surface of my usually placid facade, taking control of my emotions and my mouth and sending me on the path I now followed.

I did not regret the decision to leave Vulcan and come to Earth, but every now and then I could not help but stop and wonder...

Would she have betrayed me if I had stayed?

T'pring had taken the piece of my heart that I had offered up to her and practically handed it to the man who stole her from me.

Stonn.

Even now the name brings a bitter taste to my mouth.

For a long time I blamed myself for the fact that she turned to another. I had been away from Vulcan for fours years and in that time my feelings for her had not changed. I returned shortly after graduation, hoping that by fulfilling our obligation and completing the bond that she would come to care for me the way I did for her.

Up to that point of infinite emotional gravity, my life had been neatly ordered and under my control and that was the way I liked it. The new sense of betrayal was unfamiliar and so painful that at that point I swore that I would never feel it again.

I had returned to Earth in order to embark upon postgraduate studies and intended to lose myself in my work. During my extended time at the academy, many females made motions of interest towards me but I rebuffed them as kindly as I could and nurtured an emotional unavailability that would become the envy of any master of kolinar.

I experienced pangs of lust, just like any other fully grown male and I indulged in physical intimacy in order to abate them, but no woman came near to my heart, I made sure of it.

If I could not love, I could not be broken.

The logic was sound, but the practicality was not. Cadet Uhura was getting dangerously close to that very carefully guarded part of myself, and I did not like it.

* * *

**AN**: Up next, the Enterprise.


	3. Chapter 2: Enterprise

**Another Path**

Chapter 2

**Enterprise**

Nyota Uhura was a very happy woman.

Standing in the observation lounge of the Iowa ship yard, she lounged on one of the sofas scattered throughout the room and gazed up through the plexiglass window at her baby.

The Enterprise.

In the bag beside her she had her Academy graduation documents and her treasured official posting for the ship currently idling in front of her.

Getting a posting to the Enterprise had been a labour of love. It was unheard of for new graduates to be posted to the fleet's serving flagship, but Nyota had shed blood, sweat and tears in her efforts for perfect grades and it had paid off in spectacular fashion.

True to tradition, Starfleet had looked at the records of the top ten graduating students for the year and offered them the chance to post tenders for the ship of their choice. Nyota had finished second and had immediately requested the Enterprise. The admiral reviewing her application had called her into his office and given her a thorough grilling. He told her point blank that she would have to work harder than all the other officers on board in order to hold onto her place as part of the crew. She had bristled at that, immediately on the defense of her sex, but before she could open her mouth to fight back, the admiral assured her that it was purely because she was an unknown element. As a green officer she would be under constant scrutiny and if Captain Pike even so much as suspected that she couldn't handle the posting, she would be off that ship faster than an ejected warp core.

Commander Spock had written a glittering recommendation for her, completely unprompted. She was under no illusions that their borderline friendship had any factor in it, she knew how incorruptible Spock was - she'd seen enough Students try to buy their way to good grades with zero success - so she knew she was worthy of the posting. Now she just had to make sure she didn't disappoint him.

She thought back to the time they had spent in private study and public dining and sighed heavily. The rules about students and tutors fraternizing were crystal clear: it was not tolerated under any circumstances. The rules were in place to protect all parties involved and anyone found to be in violation of said rules were immediately removed from the Academy.

But rules didn't stop attraction from forming.

The number of times Nyota had found herself gazing doe-eyed at her xenoliguistics tutor during class ran well into triple figures. That in and of itself would not be a bad thing, she could pass it off as a crush, especially given the fact that he was also her personal tutor. The vertigo-inducing fact was that more often than not, during her marathon staring sessions, he had met her gaze with one of his own.

There was one particular episode of potential that stood out more than the others: she had been walking into class with one of her male friends, they were laughing and walking closer together than usual due to the fact that they had been to a party together the previous night and were sympathising in each other's hangovers. When they had entered the lecture theatre, Nyota had glanced across at Spock to nod her usual, non-verbal 'good morning' and he had fixed her companion with the most envious, bitter, cutting glare she had ever seen from him. It had only been a flash of emotion, and anyone else - who didn't watch him like she did - would have and did miss it, but to her it was practically a declaration of regard.

She had spent the rest of that day struggling with her steadily burgeoning regard and trying to reconcile it with the fact that she was trying her damnedest not to be attracted to him.

Damn it.

She smiled grimly to herself, finally tearing her eyes away from the ship.

They were no longer teacher and student, they were free to explore more intimate possibilities than friendship if they wanted.

The question was, did she want it?

With the Enterprise she had been given the chance of a lifetime and if she didn't absolutely shine then the rug would be whipped out from under her fatser than she could breathe, effectively shattering the dream she had worked so hard for. Embarking upon a relationship with Spock now would be a massive distraction, one that she could not afford, despite how much she may want it, and especially as they were going to be serving on the same ship.

She took a sliver of solace in that thought.

They would be colleagues aboard the Enterprise, work mates, they would most likely hardly ever cross paths. Spock's position as First Officer would consume most of his working day on the bridge. As a greenie, Nyota would be stationed several decks below him in the communications centre. As such, with the limited contact their posts would afford them, it would only be a matter of time until her crush burned itself out.

She hoped.

**-UFP-**

Following the launch of the new flagship, everything was going swimmingly until they passed Alpha Centauri and a solar flare from the star knocked out a portion of the power distribution grid that led into the universal translator.

Scotty - cursing the new fangled technology that had allowed this to happen - was working frantically in Engineering to reset the power grid and get the translator back online. He had his own reasons alongside those of the captain: until he did he would have no idea what Ensign Keenser was saying.

When they said that some people weren't built for Federation Standard, Keenser's race were right at the front of the queue. Whereas all Federation members learned Standard as part of their education, the Badak Api simply could not wrap their scaly lips around it, so Scotty was forced to rely on the Universal Translator in order to work with his assistant.

Scotty pulled his head out of the guts of a console as a throat was politely cleared behind him. He turned around and sighed noisily with relief, it was one of the junior communications officers; thank God.

"Commander Scott? You called for a translator?"

Scotty wiped his hands off on a rag and flashed a tight, tense smile at the girl addressing him. "Aye lass, you arrived just in time. I was about to strangle the little bugger."

She looked around in confusion, her pony tail swinging as she did so. "Who sir?"

He waved his rag at a stubby pair of legs sticking out from under a nearby power conduit. "Keenser. Little snot bag has been deliberately chattering at me all afternoon, he knows I can't speak Badaki." The engineer concealed by the conduit chirruped haughtily at him and Scotty raised his voice to drown him out. "I can't understand a bloody word, thought you might have a better chance."

Lieutenant Uhura raised an eyebrow, she had looked briefly into Badaki after discovering that there would be one on the crew, but she had uncharacteristically given up. Just as Badaki vocal apparatus struggled with standard, so too did Human with Badaki; it was like her experience with Tellarite all over again only ten times worse.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know any human who can speak Badaki and I'm afraid that I'm no exception. However, I might know someone who can." Moving to the comm panel on the wall, she paged Spock on the bridge. He responded after the second page, his face appearing on the small screen as he spoke to her from the science station.

"Lieutenant Uhura, this is rather unorthodox. I presume you require my assistance?" He was stoic, business like and Nyota was grateful for his natural placidity. If he had been fully human it might have been difficult working with him. As it were this was the first time she had spoken to him since they had left Earth; as she was not a senior officer and he was the first officer, she had no authorisation for direct contact with him unless something out of the ordinary happened.

This pretty much counted as out of the ordinary. "I was wondering if you might be able to assist me, sir. Commander Scott requires translation for his Badak Apian co-worker."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Badaki is indeed a most complicated language, I can see why you - as a human - would have trouble with it. I will be available to assist you in fifteen minutes. Spock out." The screen abruptly went blank.

Despite herself, Nyota bristled. She knew that Spock always spoke from a logical standpoint, but did he have to point out her failure so blatantly? And probably within earshot of the captain too. She started to fume, just because she couldn't speak Badaki it did not follow that she couldn't understand it.

Something nudged at her knee. Looking down she saw that Ensign Keenser was standing beside her and looking up at her with an unreadable expression on his scaly face. Blinking his huge black eyes once, he chattered and squeaked a brief question at her. She nodded and said, "I can't speak Badaki but do you understand Basic?" Keenser nodded and pointed at Scotty, chattering briefly again. Nyota grinned in response. "Yes, not a problem." Keenser jumped up and down in glee and set off towards Scotty, waving his small arms and issuing a stream of clicks and whistles at the much taller man, who in turn groaned loudly and waved his hands as if to shoo the little alien away.

Nyota sent a text only message to Spock's station, it turned out she would not be requiring his assistance after all, thank you very much.

**-UFP-**

The funeral was a somber affair, as funerals tend to be.

Lieutenant Commander Dixon had been a fine officer, a respected diplomat and a talented linguist, his name had already been recorded in history several times over for his work in deciphering new languages and for successfully mediating between disparate antagonistic groups. He had been the ideal choice of negotiator for the mission that had seen his death.

The talks between the Hassan and the Darshan had been going so well, no-one would have suspected the H'Shan's daughter of such subterfuge. She had managed to poison not only Commander Dixon but also the H'Shan herself and the other party's chosen representative, the D'Sau of Darshan. The D'Sau had survived the spiked drink, but the H'Shan and Commander Dixon had not been so fortunate. The warring factions had slipped back into fighting with the daughter now proclaiming herself as H'Shan and showing no interest in peace. The Enterprise had been forced to withdraw, the Prime Directive prevented them from getting directly involved in the war.

So they withdrew, one officer lighter than when they had arrived.

Nyota daubed at her eyes as the captain finished delivering his eulogy, Carl Dixon would be missed by the crew and particularly by his subordinates. Nyota had been working as his assistant for six months and would continue the work he had started. She would finish it in his name and honour his memory by doing so. It would be difficult to carry on as normal once the service was over, but Dixon had built an excellent communications team and they would pull together.

She turned to glance at Helen who, as the Head Communications Engineer, had been on very good - verging on personal - terms with Carl. She seemed okay for now but his loss would hit her hard. Nyota promised herself that she would keep a close eye on her friend.

The service came to a close and the officers took a step back from the transporter pad. Coming to attention, they saluted the pod containing Carl's body and watched as it dematerialised, its molecules scattered for eternity on the solar winds of space.

Nyota turned to follow the small gathering out of the transporter room, but paused as she felt a masculine hand close gently around her upper arm. It was the captain.

He waited until the room was mostly clear before he said softly, "This is not the best time, Lieutenant, but you should know that I will be assigning you as Acting Communications Chief until Commander Spock and I have decided who is best suited to take on the job permanently." He smiled gently as panic crept onto Nyota's face. "You were working closely with Carl so you are the logical choice, for now at least." He extended his hand for her to shake. "I expect to see you on the bridge at 0800 hours tomorrow."

She shook the hand in a daze, muttered her thanks and watched him go, all without blinking.

_Communications Chief_.

Despite the grave situation she smiled slightly; how grand that sounded.

**-UFP-**

Deck One.

The Bridge.

Nyota Uhura's Holy Grail.

Moving quickly to her station before she could be caught gawking, Nyota slipped a subspace receiver into her ear, logged in to the communications panel and blinked at the stream of messages scrolling across her screen. Requests for subspace access, requests for frequency updates, requests for array permissions.

She slipped into auto pilot, answering the requests as quickly and efficiently as she could. Abruptly remembering that she was supposed to be keeping an ear on incoming transmissions as well, she activated her earpiece and cocked her head, dividing her attention three ways and almost completely zoning out of the activity around her.

From the command chair, Captain Pike swiveled in his seat to afford his new alpha shift member an appraising gaze. Uhura had settled right in, which was a relief; with her still being comparatively green he had been more than a tad concerned that she would struggle under the pressures of command. He watched as her fingers flew over her console and she spoke intermittently into the audio receiver directly in front of her. He cocked an impressed eyebrow as in the space of twenty seconds she flicked easily between three different languages.

It looked like he'd been right to trust the late Commander Dixon's instinct, Uhura would work out just fine.

*

At the end of Alpha shift, Pike stood up as Spock exited the turbo lift to relieve him. Gesturing for his number one to follow him into the ready room, Pike picked up his PADD and lead the taller man into his office.

Sitting at his desk, he motioned Spock to take a seat opposite him. Activating the PADD, he went through the handover.

"Pretty uneventful shift, Spock. Lieutenant Uhura handled Comms admirably considering her lack of command experience, Ensign Parry started a level three diagnostic on the phaser targeting system which should be done in an hour or so and Lieutenant Sulu has suggested some improvements to the thruster controls that I'd like to implement." He handed the PADD to Spock, who ran a cursory glance over it.

Pike sat back in his seat and blew out a heavy sigh. "We need to start interviewing for Dixon's permanent replacement soon. He left some pretty big boots to fill and while Uhura did a fine job today I don't know how long she can keep it up. There's going to be a lot of activity she'll have to oversee while we're passing the 3C 273 quasar tomorrow. It's going to be noisy out there and the boys in stellar cartography are going to be bombarding her for days."

"Perhaps we should consider appointing her an assistant until the work is completed."

Pike shook his head. "No, if she wants to keep the position she's going to have to prove that she can hack it with the big boys. We can't hand hold these graduates every time we pass an interesting stellar phenomenon; we'd never get any work done." He indicated the PADD that Spock was now holding, "I've listed the officers I'd like to interview; take a look, see what you think and let me know your thoughts."

Spock scrolled down to the short list of names. "Lieutenant Uhura is not on here."

Pike grimaced. "That's because I'm not sure if she's Chief material just yet. She's talented, don't get me wrong, Carl wasn't an idiot but I'm just not sure that appointing someone so inexperienced to such an important job is the best thing to do. I'm not a gambling man Mister Spock, I don't like to risk the lives of my men unnecessarily. However, if you think she's the best for the job then by all means add her to the list and we'll interview her."

He rose and Spock rose with him. The two men exited the office to find Alpha shift absent and Beta shift in place. Except for one position. Uhura was still seated at the Comms station, one hand pressing the subspace receiver firmly to her ear and the other typing rapidly at her keypad.

Pike glanced at Spock to find the other man already looking at him. He smirked, "I said I'll consider her if you want me to."

Spock did not answer, merely raised an eyebrow and followed his captain to the Communications station.

"Lieutenant, why are you still here? Your shift ended ten minutes ago and I'm sure that Ensign Largo would appreciate being able to start his." He indicated the grey skinned man hovering behind her chair.

Uhura's lips thinned and she squinted into the distance as she fought to make out something coherent from the noise in her ear. "I'm sorry, sir, but a broken transmission came through just before the shift changeover and I didn't want to leave until I at least knew that it wasn't a distress signal."

Pike raised an eyebrow, pleased at the dedication being displayed. "Very well, carry on, Lieutenant." He turned to the Beta shift comms officer, "Give her a hand, Largo."

The alien logged into the station next to Uhura and Pike murmured to his number one, "Add her to the list please, Mister Spock."

Spock wordlessly held up the PADD for him to see: he'd already put her name down for interview.

Pike smirked. "Audacious, Mister Spock; I do approve. Try not to let her overstay her welcome, alright? I'd like Ensign Largo to be able to earn his keep today." Receiving a nod in the affirmative, pike smirked again and left the bridge.

* * *

**Next time: Things get... _interesting..._ for our favourite couple.**


	4. Strictly Business

**AN: **Bonus points to anyone who can identify the song.

* * *

**Another Path**

Chapter 3

**Strictly Business**

"I am not trying to seduce you, Commander." She let down her hair.

"I should hope not, Lieutenant; to attempt to do so would be highly illogical." He toed off his boots.

"I'll never understand why you hold logic on such a pedestal, especially considering your background." The zip to her uniform dress slithered down her spine.

"Just as I struggle to understand your consistent efforts to persuade me to neglect it." His operational blue shirt slipped up and over his head, tousling his hair. "I consider logic to be such an important constant _because_ of my background."

Her underwear disappeared and his arms were about her, their warmth compensating for the lack of clothing. "Mmm, I love it when you speak reasonably."

He could not answer because his tongue was in her mouth.

This would be the third time since starting their five year tour that they had turned to one another for gratification. The first had been not long after her field promotion to Communications Chief; her new post on the bridge had put the two of them in close enough proximity to realise that the attraction that had formed between them during their time at the academy had lost none of its potency. They had been sharing a meal in the officers mess one evening after beta shift and during a lull in conversation, Nyota had looked at him.

_"You look tense."_

_He raised an eyebrow. "I am acceptably calm, I assure you."_

_She spiked a chunk of re-hydrated brocolli on her fork and waved it at him across the table. "See, now that's how I know that you're not. You only ever make assurances when you're lying."_

_He bristled ever so slightly at the accusation. "Nyota, I do not lie."_

_Munching on the vegetable, she responded, "Yes, yes, I know the spiel by now, Spock, lying is illogical and all that." She swallowed and impaled another stalk. "I still don't buy it and you still look tense."_

_He fought the urge to sigh in exasperation at her persistance. "I will admit to the fact that I have been struggling to meditate effectively for the last three days. The constant yellow alert we have been operating under has affected my ability to detach and focus."_

_Nyota flashed a quick grimace of sympathy, she had seen first hand what a dragon Spock could become without time to clear his over active mind. At the academy he had once been forced to forego meditation for a whole week when the core processor for the entire computer programming facility crashed. He had worked round the clock with the engineers to fix it, leaving the bowels of the building only to sleep when he could no longer stand. The Spock she saw in class at the end of that week was so on edge that he almost appeared human. She had never told him that, knowing how mortified he would be if he knew._

_She smirked cheekily at him, comfortable in their professional (and occasionally personal) relationship as it stood now. "There are other ways to relax, you know."_

_He resisted the impulse to raise his eyebrow again. He was already too lax with the control of his outward signs of emotion around her, and the relief that she might have an alternative to the-impossible-to-affect meditation was threatening to burst onto his face. "Indeed? I would gladly entertain any suggestion you care to make."_

_Nyota almost choked on her brocolli. She stared at him and found none of the subtle humour that often lit his eyes when they conversed. He was deadly serious. "Okay. Um, it-it's a little unorthodox - for _you_ I mean..."_

_He cocked his head, intrigued by her sudden attack of coyness and what it could possibly have to do with helping him to relax. "Nyota? Is there something wrong?" She blushed furiously, refusing to meet his eyes and suddenly his human instincts sat up and elbowed his Vulcan logic in the figurative ribs._

_She was suggesting sex._

_His eyes widened to the point where the irises were surrounded entirely by white._

_While Spock was experiencing his epiphany, Nyota was hoping for a quantum singularity to open underneath her chair so she could dive into it. Had she really just propositioned Spock? It looked like it wasn't just he who was suffering from an over active mind from the standby alert._

_"I am amenable to this alternative."_

_Nyota swallowed her tongue. _

_After a quick bout of spluttering coughs, she managed to gasp out, "What?!"_

_Spock leaned towards her over the table, the better to keep his voice as low as possible. "Nyota, your suggestion is quite acceptable." His voice was pure, dark honey, never had she considered the word 'acceptable' to be seductive. "The endorphins that such an activity would produce would help to relax us both. I sense that you too are struggling under the constant state of alert."_

_He was disgustingly good at reading her, it really wasn't fair considering that her attempts at reading him felt like trying to decipher a brick wall. "Well, yes, but-"_

_"But I am certain that we would be able to conduct ourselves professionally following our intercourse. There would be no emotional entanglements to hamper our working together afterwards."_

_Again he was right. The regard that had been established earlier in their friendship had sustained itself quite nicely. But that was all it was. She had watched him working on the bridge, had admired his efficiency of movement and yes she had checked him out, but she no longer mooned over him as she had as a cadet and he certainly didn't gaze adoringly over his panel at her. She saw him now as an equal, a fellow officer._

_A fellow officer who she could not help but notice filled out his uniform just right._

_She sighed in sweet defeat and a slow smirk crept over her face. "Your place or mine?"_

Nyota landed on the bunk, flat on her back, the body of her bed fellow following swiftly after, to cover her with his delicious weight. The soft impact stole her breath for a second and no sooner had she recovered it than Spock stole it from her again. The rest of his clothes had vanished and they were both naked, entangled and flushed.

_The second time they had come together was not quite as spontaneous as the first. Spock's assurance that their encounter would not engender any emotional complications had been true to the word; they had managed quite successfully to scratch their respective itches and return to work refreshed and clear-headed. Thus, both found themselves considering the option of release again, this time after a fortnight long bout of negotiations with a trade planet new to the Federation. _

_Bartering and wordplay with intelligent, new races were some of Christopher Pike's favourite parts of being the captain of the fleet's flag ship. Unfortunately for Nyota however, Pike's enthusiasm had led to her having to put in several double shifts; he wanted his best linguist on hand while he worked in case something unusual came up that the universal translator couldn't handle. Spock had not been required to put in as many extra hours as Nyota while they entertained large parties of traders, but the presence of so many extra bodies in so small a space as the hallways and public rooms of the star ship had left him having to work harder than usual in order to maintain his mental barriers._

_At the end of the trade negotiations, they crossed paths in the officer's mess, neither one of them missing the significance of the location for the new level of their friendship. _

_As they shared a table, Spock took the initiative and, mimicking the setup of their original interlude, said in a low voice, "You appear to be fatigued, Lieutenant."_

_Nyota had looked up from her plate of deep fried Andorian tuber root and raised an eyebrow at the body language accompanying his statement. His eyes were very slightly wider than usual and his breath was coming a tad more quickly than was normal for him. _

_She smirked at the signs revealed by his micro expressions and replied, "I'm a little tired, yes. This has been an exciting, exhausting couple of weeks." She took a bite of food, feigning nonchalance. "It's very kind of you to notice."_

_"I hope that you are able to find relief during your down time tomorrow."_

_Nyota licked her lips, partly to clean them of the grease produced by her highly satisfying, very fattening fast food, and partly to test a hypothesis. Spock's choice of wording had to be deliberate, this man did nothing accidentally. Just as she had expected, his eyes slipped from hers to follow the motion of her tongue._

_Bingo._

_"Spock, would you care to help me in finding some, ah, _relief_?"_

_His eyes flared and his knee brushed hers under the table. "I would be willing to assist in any way I can, Lieutenant."_

_Their the first time together had been a slow, careful learning of one another's bodies. They had explored and catalogued each other's responses, mindful that this could be a one time only thing._

_This was nothing like that._

_Assured that if it was happening for a second time, their coupling was not to be an isolated event, they flew at one another. Frantically tearing at each other's clothing they only managed to get halfway before the urgency of the moment took over and they fell down where they stood - in the middle of Spock's quarters incidentally - and screwed one another on the floor, their uniforms still half on and carpet burns rubbing into their skin everywhere gravity demanded._

In the here and now, for the third time of meaningless copulation he entered her slowly, unerringly, drawing a long, smooth, language-free mewl from her linguist's throat. Once he was sheathed fully inside her, he dropped down onto his elbows and buried his face into the crook of her neck, lapping esuriently at the fluttering pulse he found there.

Nyota's limbs moved of their own accord to wrap around him, her arms tangling behind his neck, her legs intertwining with his, drawing his feverish body even closer. She heard him hiss into her skin as he was pulled deeper and she threaded the fingers of one hand into the hair at the base of his skull.

With a low, very male, very alien utterance he began to move and she cried out, her brain shutting down and her body taking over.

The moment could have been confused with an exchange of love, but it was not. Far from it, they simply gave each other release; they were professionals, this was just for the sake of their jobs, the smooth running of the ship. It was strictly business.

Shuddering in aftershock, they lay entangled together, exchanging soft kisses, breathing each other's breath.

Tomorrow they would go back to their respective posts with no-one the wiser of what they had done, what they were still doing, what they would do again. Tomorrow they would go back to being cool and aloof acquaintances, colleagues, officers.

But that was tomorrow.

Tucking her head under his chin, he dropped a kiss onto the top of her head and they drifted to sleep wrapped in one another**.**

* * *

**Next time**: Pon Farr strikes and the rating goes up to a juicy M


	5. Splinter

**A/N: **I'm, sorry, I'm sorry about the delay! RL has thrown a massive wobbly at me so updates are not happening as quickly as I'd like. Those of you who have read the standalone '_Splinter_' will recognise this, it's been tweaked to suit the needs of Another Path.

If any of you are still holding on for the '_Paralyzer_' epilogue, the good news is that it is underway!

* * *

**Another Path**

Chapter 5

**Splinter**

Spock's eyebrow had hoisted itself high onto his forehead and refused, point blank, to be coaxed back down. He eyed the complicated looking fabric and metal device being held in front of him, then looked over the contraption to meet the gaze of the man holding it.

"Doctor, I fail to see how this will help."

McCoy grimaced, as he usually did when faced with his favourite hobgoblin's obtuseness. "It's simple, Spock. You wear it until we can get you to safety. It'll stop you from... ah... compromising yourself."

Spock was not convinced. "Perhaps a personal restraining field would be better?"

McCoy shook his head. "Too big a drain on the ship's power reserves. You will recall that the last battering we took from our friendly neighborhood K'tarans blew out the aft cargo bay. We left a lot of energy crystals drifting in our wake and we can't refill until we get to Starbase Eleven. Until we can get some more we're forcefield-less except for the emergency atmospheric containment fields."

Spock ground his teeth together in an effort to control his frustration; he was well aware of the particulars of that battle. The K'taran Stinger that they had fought with had indeed left them several tonnes of hull lighter. The operations teams were still running around like headless chickens getting repair equipment from one end of the ship to the other without the use of turbolifts because the K'tarans had managed to somehow disable those as well.

McCoy waved the archaic device - a 'straight jacket' - towards him again, "I'm sorry Spock, but under the circumstances this is the best way. Needs must and all that."

Spock attempted one final, last ditch effort. "Perhaps mittens of some sort-"

McCoy lost any pretense of patience and cut him off. "No, Spock. Now sit still while I put this on you." McCoy pounced on the taller man where he sat perched on the edge of a biobed and man-handled him into the highly undignified garment.

Once he was bound, trussed and buckled in, Spock flexed his arms experimentally against the fabric bonds - expecting them to be inferior for the task - and was intrigued by the fact that he was indeed, held tight by them.

"Short of being unbuckled, there is only one way out of this thing. I don't recommend trying to find out what it is because it will hurt, and I refuse to repair the damage you would inflict upon yourself if you did."

Spock wordlessly nodded his obedience and rose to leave the sickbay. McCoy sprinted around the bed to block his exit. "Whoa there, where do you think _you're_ going?"

Spock cocked his head and frowned at the doctor as if he should be the one in the straight jacket. "To my quarters, Doctor. You told me I must remain there until we arrive at Vulcan."

"Not on your own you're not. You need to be attended; you know damn well what will happen to you later and you'll need help. Let me get one of the nurses to give you a hand."

For a split second, instinctive fear overrode ingrained logic and Spock almost panicked, it was bad enough that he was having to bear the ridiculousness of wearing a restraint, it would be positively horrifying if some loose-lipped nurse blabbed his personal business about the ship. It would be far better if one proven in their discretion were to be the one to care for him. "Thank you Doctor, but I would request that you contact Lieutenant Uhura to assist me. She is well accustomed to my idiosyncrasies, and given the circumstances I believe I would be more comfortable being attended by someone I am closely acquainted with."

For once, McCoy was in agreement - despite a curiously raised eyebrow of his own at Spock's professed closeness with the communications officer; when exactly had _that_ happened, and what precisely did he mean by 'closely acquainted'? - and contacted Nyota in her quarters. Spock resumed his perch on the bed to wait for her, while the doctor exited the private officers' room and returned to the main sickbay in order to attend to an ensign's thankfully minor, K'taran-inflicted injuries.

Five minutes later and half way through sealing a bleeding gash in the ensign's arm, McCoy glanced up as the door to sickbay swished open and Uhura arrived looking mildly confused.

She waited patiently for him to hand over to Nurse Chapel and approach her before she asked him in a low voice, "Leonard? What's going on?"

"It's Spock." Ignoring her puzzled expression, he took her elbow and guided her to the private officers' room.

As soon as they stepped into the room, Uhura froze in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the tightly trussed Vulcan seated patiently on the edge of the bed. McCoy had to stifle a smile as Spock noted her arrival, drew himself up straight and attempted to retain his dignity.

"Mister Spock? What?" She whirled on McCoy, a displeased frown creasing her brow. "What is this? Some kind of joke?"

McCoy shook his head and became serious once again. "I'm afraid not. Commander Spock has developed an unusual... ah... _condition_; it isn't life threatening, not yet, but he needs to be closely monitored until we can get him to Vulcan where he can be treated."

Shoving down her inner lurch at McCoy's _'not yet'_, Uhura did her best to keep her face politely concerned. Her eyes flicked from side to side as she ran some quick mental arithmetic. She met McCoy's gaze again with a frown. "Vulcan is three days away even at maximum warp."

McCoy nodded. "That's right. Commander Spock has requested that you be the one to keep an eye on him until we get there."

She looked startled. "Me? Why me?"

The smile was back again and threatened to emerge as a shit eating grin, But he resisted, his lips twitching with the effort as he replied, "Because you're familiar with his anatomy."

Spock, who had remained silent thus far, cleared his throat uncomfortably as a muscle in Uhura's eye twitched.

"Doctor, that is not what I said."

McCoy apologised unapologetically, "Sorry. My mistake." He couldn't resist a smirk as Spock and Uhura exchanged a quick, furtive glance.

Uhura sighed heavily. "Alright. What do I need to do?"

McCoy turned to a drawer behind him, pulled out a handful of items and turned back to Uhura, holding them out for her to take. "You use these and stand well back."

Uhura frowned down at the tangle of woven straps in her hand in confusion, then looked at Spock's current mode of restraint. Her eyes shot open wide as realisation dawned and she whirled on McCoy to hiss, "You're _kidding! _I'm not tying him up!"

McCoy sobered. "You have to. Otherwise he'll rip your head off."

She blinked.

"Spock requested your help because he wants to retain his privacy, which I can understand; he's lucid enough now to comply with what needs to be done and will remain so for the next half hour or so. After that time he will become... different."

"Different?"

He nodded and lowered his voice, wary of Spock's fear of being exposed as some sort of animal. "The Vulcan people have worked extremely hard to suppress their inherently passionate nature, and they have been largely successful. However, all that enforced emotional control comes at a price; this condition is one of them." He glanced at Spock who was sitting with unnatural rigidity - even for him - on the bed, as his dirtiest secret was on the verge of being laid bare. McCoy deliberated for a second on whether to tell Nyota everything, that Spock would become delirious and violent, but decided that discretion was the better part of valour. "Suffice it to say that you may not recognise him when the fever sets in. You will need to use these to keep him from hurting you."

As Spock had feared she would, Uhura turned her gaze on him as if he were something dangerous, alien, _different. _She looked him over slowly from head to foot and he had to fight not to squirm uncomfortably, as the sensation of being a curiosity under a microscope asserted itself. She had seen him nude several times before and from several different angles, but he had never felt so _naked_ in her eyes. He shivered and looked away, ashamed and defeated.

Frowning at Spock's aversion of his gaze from hers but satisfied that he was still himself for the time being, she returned her gaze to McCoy and asked, "If he will become dangerous enough to warrant the use of these," she waved the straps for emphasis, "then why isn't someone from Security taking care of him?"

"Nyota." Spock met her gaze again and forced himself to remain stoic and calm as, for the first time since he had met her, she flinched at his utterance of her name. His voice was soft as he entreated her to understand, "This is an intensely private matter and I do not wish for my personal issues to become the topic of the ship's grapevine. Only three people know that I am ill, Doctor McCoy, the captain and now you." He swallowed and licked his lips, the first outward sign he had shown of his discomfort since he had realised it was upon him. "Please, Nyota. I need your help."

She looked at him for a second, then put down the straps and moved so she was facing him square on. Her thighs almost touched his knees as she gazed long and hard at him again, this time not as an intriguing specimen of alien physiology, but as her friend. She spent a long moment trying to discern a change from the achingly gentle, secretly passionate man she had known for four years into the deadly stranger McCoy had described. There was nothing, except for a slight dilation of his soft brown eyes, that indicated he was any different from before.

She nodded slowly, "All right," and flinched as McCoy pressed the restraining straps back into her hand, uncomfortable with the uncertainty of the situation but unable to turn her back on him when he was in need.

"Even though on paper it's an unnecessary drain on the ship's power, I'm authorising a site to site transport for you both. I'm sure you won't want to walk the corridors to the habitation deck like this." He waved at the jacket.

Spock nodded his thanks to the Doctor; for all his acerbic bluster McCoy was thankfully discrete when called upon to be so. He slid from the edge of the bed to land on his feet beside Uhura, who looked up at him curiously, still searching for the difference she had been warned about. The transporter tingled around them and they dissolved, only to reassemble in Spock's quarters an instant later.

Upon arrival in the living area of his rooms, Spock indicated a nearby armchair with his head. "I believe this item of furniture will serve our purposes."

She moved towards the seat, separating the straps out as she went, and began attaching them ready to receive him as he stood silently behind her. Stepping back once she was happy that they were as securely attached at they could be, she averted her gaze as Spock moved past her to take his position. She strapped him in without meeting his eyes, extremely uncomfortable with the situation and desperately fighting back the sadistic pleasure she felt at restraining him so thoroughly.

Spock watched her nimble fingers as she worked at the straps binding his thighs; her head was bowed and her breathing shallow. Her discomfort was understandable and he did not envy her position, but as the backs of her fingers grazed the white cotton trousers that Doctor McCoy had suggested he wear, he sucked in a long, slow breath. An excited tingle asserted itself in his belly and he hoped he had not erred in his choice of her as his attendant.

Without moving his head, Spock watched her as she rose to her feet and moved behind him to restrain his upper body. Her hands draped the straps across his chest before following to smooth them into position. The inadvertent caress that the motion brought forced Spock to close his eyes in concentration; the fever was beginning to make itself known and he didn't know how much longer he would remain lucid.

As Nyota worked, she became aware of a strange sound. Low and rumbling, it sounded a little like a cat's purr and as she placed the next strap into position across Spock's chest, she felt vibrating and realised it was coming from him.

"Spock, are you... _purring?_"

The sound immediately stopped and the Vulcan stiffened in the chair. "No..."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Nyota couldn't help but smile as she finished off the restraints. Coming around the chair to face him and admire her handiwork, the smile fell from her face as she saw his expression. He was staring at her, a faint flush staining his cheekbones as he blinked slowly. It appeared the changes McCoy had warned her about were about to set in.

"Spock?"

"Nyota..." The voice that responded was not in his usual even tone, it was slow, drawling, sensual, lingering on the 'o' and drawing out the 'a' in her name. His arms shifted in the straight jacket and he whined at her, "Unti-ie me..."

She shook her head and took a step backwards. "No, Spock, we agreed, remember? You're to stay there until we can get you home."

His eyes suddenly clouded and he thrashed violently against his bonds. "_LET ME GO!_" he bellowed and Nyota flinched from the volume as she took another step away from him. As her retreat took her to exactly one point five meters out of his personal radius, his countenance suddenly stilled. He blinked for a second, clearly himself again, and looked at her with a strange blend of relief and urgency in his eyes.

"Nyota, I may only have a moment so I must explain what is happening to me while I am still able." He took a slow breath and stilled the tremble that threatened in his limbs. "I am entering Pon Farr, the peak of a hormonal cycle, during which time I will become exponentially more expressive." He shook his head slightly with a rue twist of his lips and averted his gaze from hers. "'Expressive' does not begin to describe how much I will change, how much of a stranger I will become to you. I will become angry, violent and-" he blushed fiercely, unable to stop himself from locking her gaze again, "-_amorous_." He watched her for a reaction and was grateful that she managed to remain relatively neutral - at least in her face; her eyes had definitely flashed for an instant. He pressed on, feeling the warning tickle in his mind that he was about to lose himself again. "However, there has been a complication." He swallowed hard, he had wanted for a long time to tell her of his true regard for her, how their irregular meeting of bodies had begun to nudge at the stone wall that T'pring's betrayal had built around his heart it. It was most unfortunate that the confession had to come at such a time as this. "I am deeply attracted to you, Nyota, I have been for several years and since we embarked upon our... _arrangement_... the fact that we do not share a Vulcan empathic bond has caused an issue."

Her voice was small and unsettled as she replied, "What kind of issue?"

"My body is clamouring for the consummation of a bond with you that my mind has dwelled on but not actually formed; it has been fooled into thinking that I am in fact bonded to you."

She blinked.

"The Pon Farr drives bonded Vulcans together every seven years f-for an... um..." he stammered uncharacteristically, horrified by his verbal diahorrea but unable to stop it, "-an extended bout of sexual intercourse. As Doctor McCoy said, it is nature's way of balancing the methods we use to control our emotions and instinctive impulses." He tried to look away from her in embarrassment but found that he was unable to. "The trick that my mind is playing on my body cannot be undone by medicine, and the longer it remains, the more likely it is that my ego will fracture into disparate personalities. By the time we reach New Vulcan I imagine that I will be mostly unrecognisable to you."

Nyota couldn't believe what she was hearing. She and Spock had been what her former room mate would have crudely referred to as 'fuck buddies' for nearly a year. In that time they had followed a natural path from friendship to physical intimacy, the intimacy lending a further closeness to their platonic relationship than they had previously enjoyed. They had come together out of convenience, the choice of one another for physical release had been a logical one, what with them being such close friends.

When had friendly convenience tangled into desire?

She found him attractive, she would never have agreed to this arrangement in the first place if she didn't, but she had never sat and day dreamed over him. She had seen it happen to friends of hers, where 'friends with benefits' had gone from clean, no-strings sex to a messy muddle of emotions. She had sworn that it would never happen to her and Spock; it couldn't, surely? He was emotionally unavailable and she was too obsessively dedicated to her career to let herself get drawn into a romantic relationship.

Yet here it was, staring her in the face as he practically admitted to mooning over her.

Spock was a spectacular lover, curious and skillful in equal measures and as she thought back over their encounters thus far, she began to see a trend emerge. The first time they had slept together had been cool, straight forward and detached, exactly how she had imagined sex with Spock would be. Seven months and a hundred encounters later he had blown her mind with his mastery of her body; he had learned exactly where, when, how deep, how hard, when to slow and when to race. He knew how to make her moan, how to make her fist her hands into the bed clothes, how to make her climax slam into her and how to make it trickle. He knew Her. Skipping forward another three months, Nyota's mind hit upon the tell-tale session that should have set warning bells ringing, but had instead left her cradling him tenderly with tears tracking over her temples and into her hair.

That time he had taken her slowly, reverently, whispering her name and holding her gaze. His hands, usually so meticulous and controlled when they lay together had wandered aimlessly over her body, smoothing over every inch of skin he could find. Nowhere went uncaressed that night; her eyelids were soothed with his lips, the backs of her knees were explored and mapped, his fingers had traced delicately over her ankle bones, her clavicles, the backs of her ears and as he sank those restless fingers deep into her hair and drew her off the bed for a penetrating, lingering kiss, she had felt her heart still in her chest. _This was what it meant to be made love to_; no sooner had that thought crossed her mind than he had groaned softly into the kiss and climaxed immediately, the helpless shuddering of his body pressed so closely and so tightly against her sparking off a peak of her own.

They had lain tangled together for a long time afterwards. When she had woken the following morning he was gone, as he always was, and when she saw him on shift he showed no sign that he had ever been moved at all. It was odd, but as he never repeated the earth movingly gentle lovemaking, she assumed it had been a one-off and thought no more on it.

It looked like she had assumed incorrectly.

His eyes bored into hers as he watched her process what was happening, what had happened and what would most likely happen now. He watched as she came back to herself from her memories and when she fixed her gaze in him this time it was weighted with knowledge.

"Spock..."

The breathy caress of his name sent delightful shivers through his immobile body and as she drew close to him, passing the barrier to the safe zone around him, the shivers became a violent, body wrenching jolt. Spock threw his head back against the chair, squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his lips back to bare his teeth in a savage snarl as his hips jerked a sudden ridge of arousal into the air. He managed to hiss out a warning from between clenched teeth, "Nyota, get back... get BACK!" He jerked against the bonds, the buckles of the jacket clinking behind him as his body fought instinctively to free itself and claim what it thought was its bondmate.

Nyota all but ran backwards in her haste to get out of his sphere of influence. When he stopped convulsing she gulped as his eyes opened to lock onto hers. They were wide and feral and completely black; it looked as though the instinctive part of Spock's psyche was coming out to play. "_Mine_..." it hissed and she shuddered, her fear squashed by a sudden blast of arousal at the simple, possessive word. His thighs thrashed against the thick fabric straps around his legs and she heard a stitch pop.

"Spock," she had to try to calm him, otherwise he'd be out of those restraints and pinning her to the nearest wall before she even had chance to say 'slow down cowboy'. "Spock, tell me about the academy, tell me about our time there." Maybe getting him to remember a calmer time, before the world went crazy, would help to cool him off.

He grinned darkly. "I wanted to fuck you."

Okay, maybe not.

His eyes blazed and he tilted his chin to scent the air. With a jolt she realised he was smelling _her, _or more accurately her arousal. The heated, filthy confession from his usually tightly controlled, cultured mouth had sent a bolt of heat through her and with a squirm she realised just how affected she had been; it was no wonder he could smell her.

As if understanding what had caused her to produce the delicious waft of pheromones, he spoke again in a deep, dark, dangerous purr. "Whoever designed those cadet uniforms was either a pervert or a genius, every time you bent over a console or a desk I got an erection. I wanted to push that silly little skirt all the way up, rip off your underwear - which I could also see by the way - and take you." He licked his lips and groaned happily. "You were the sexiest woman I'd ever seen. I dreamt about you all the time, constantly waking up hard; my left arm sure got a good workout the last year we were there."

Nyota gaped at him, convinced that she was in some sort of crazy dream. He hadn't given away anything that even hinted that he thought that way about her while they were at the academy. They had shared the occasional glance, they had even touched fingers accidentally once or twice - although looking back with this new perspective maybe it hadn't been accidental at all - but nothing else had indicated this lust.

He must have one hell of a poker face.

He squirmed in his restraints, the bulge in his trousers still present. "I have an itch. Can you help me scratch it?" His thighs flexed sensually within the straps holding them and she moved forwards, turned on by his words, hypnotised by his huge, brown eyes and instinctively drawn to the scent of his arousal hanging thick and delicious in the air.

Mistake.

He surged again, his arms straining and his head bowing as his shoulders twisted back and forth inside the jacket. Snapping out of her daze, Nyota beat a hasty retreat and waited with baited breath to see what side of Spock would emerge this time.

His head came up to lock a glare on her. _"What have you done to me, you witch?!" _This Spock was clearly full Vulcan, the High Vulcan issuing from his lips in clipped tones said as much. _"Release me this instant." _A _haughty_ High Vulcan; this should be interesting.

_"I am ensuring your safety. the bonds are there to protect you." _she replied in a flawless replica of his tongue.

He stilled and examined her coolly. _"You are human."_ He glanced down at the bulge in his lap. _"How are you affecting me in this way? _**Are**_ you a witch?"_

Nyota grimaced as he clutched again at the witch concept, only the most sheltered people still believed in witchcraft. Maybe this was not a High Vulcan, maybe it was a primitive Vulcan instead. Her innards lurched with adrenaline; primitive, pre-Surak Vulcans were at the complete mercy of their emotions. This persona would be more impulsive than the one it had replaced. Erring on the side of caution she opted not to respond and sealed her lips tightly shut.

He cocked his head. _"Witch or no, you are uncommonly attractive. Do you have a mate?"_

She was starting to see a pattern here that made what Spock had explained in his lucidity clear. She was seeing different elements of his psyche, exactly as he had said she would, and each one had sex on the brain, a result of the tangled Pon Farr. Answering his question non verbally she shook her head in the negative.

His eyes lit up. _"Good, because I want to mate with you. Come here and untie me so we can begin."_

_Oh Gods yes. _She swallowed hard on the impulse to voice her assent and turned her back on him instead. Moving to his sofa she sat down and watched him mutter to himself, still in High Vulcan. It was late, she wanted to sleep but she wasn't sure if it was safe to leave him alone. Stretching out on the sofa and ignoring the way he stopped muttering and watched her become horizontal with flaming eyes, she lay down to watch him. It wasn't long until she fell asleep; thankfully she didn't dream of him.

*

"Nyota."

She stirred, the smooth, deep tone drawing her irresistably from a deep slumber.

"Nyota, please wake up."

Nyota blinked awake and slowly sat up, rubbing at her eyes as she turned to look at Spock across the room. "Spock?"

"Nyota, I have re-established control for the time being. I require your assistance." His voice was tight and he was squirming ardently in the chair.

Rolling to her feet, she approached him slowly and came to a halt just outside of what she had calculated as the safe zone - a one point five meter radius from the chair. "Spock? Is it all you this time?"

He nodded, his gaze dragging lustily and compulsively over her form. "Nyota, I need relief; please..." he glanced down at his crotch then back up at her, "please help me. I fear I may lose my mind completely if I do not have some form of release soon." His eyes slipped closed and he whimpered in helpless arousal as his hips writhed uncontrollably. In lucidity the lust was even harder for him to handle than when on of the other personalities took over. When they - the id - surged forth he found he could step back and merely observe, his body was no longer driving him insane in this state. It was tempting, so tempting, to remain there, untouched by the fever, but he knew that if he did his ego would fracture permanently and He would be lost. So he fought back to the forefront of his own mind, battering the Others back and reasserting Himself.

It was the Spock that Nyota knew who sat there now, thirsting uncontrollably for her and at the complete mercy of his overheated, pheromone drenched, sexually starved body.

"Is... is it safe to come closer?" She didn't want to contend with another crazy splinter of his psyche until she'd had at least another four hours sleep.

His eyes shot open and he nodded eagerly, "Yes... yes, please... please come closer." She moved cautiously to within three inches of the chair and he locked wide, pleading eyes on her, knowing what he wanted but, even in this state, retaining too many of his inherent manners to be able to ask for it.

Nyota knelt before him as if he were some sort of alter to be worshiped at. Parting his knees as far as they would go within the confines of the chair, she reached for the fastening of his trousers.

"Yessss...." His head fell back as he was exposed to the cool air and his breath shallowed to short, hot pants. "Please, please, _pleasepleaseplease_..." Cool fingers touched his burning, throbbing flesh and he cried out, his voice cracking as blistering electricity scorched through his every synapse and nerve ending.

This wouldn't take long.

Veins stood out on Spock's neck and his arms strained at the fabric of the jacket almost hard enough to tear. His legs trembled within the tight straps as his blood turned to superheated steam and seared him from the inside out. His body locked and with a deafening roar of primal instinct he climaxed. Hard.

Slumping into the chair, lungs heaving, arms aching, vocal chords close to snapping and his eyelids too heavy to hold open, he rasped, "Thank you, Nyota," then promptly fell asleep.

*

By the time Nyota awoke at a more reasonable hour, Spock was hot, hard and ready to go again. His eyes followed her hungrily as she moved around his rooms, preparing a hearty breakfast for herself and a small bowl of fruit for him. He fervently hoped that she would feed him with her hand, having her fingers in his mouth would be almost as satisfying as laying her out and taking her body with his.

"How are you feeling?"

He had thought that he desired her yesterday. This morning's reaction to the sound of her voice made yesterday's urges pale in comparison. "Hot." He croaked, hoping she'd take the hint; maybe removing his trousers, maybe removing everything, maybe joining him in nudity. He swelled even more within his clothes; this was going to be a difficult day.

"Did last night help any?"

He wanted to say yes, but he would be lying; now he had a sample of what they could do together he was _desperate_ for more. Fortunately, the release she had given him seemed to have sent the schizophrenic side effects of the confused bond into remission. He hoped they remained there, HE wanted to be the one who received her attentions, not one of his alter-egos. "No." It seemed he would be reduced to monosyllabic answers this morning.

She stopped puttering around the room and looked at him seriously. "What _would _help?"

He looked her dead-on and responded honestly, "Sex."

Her voice was shrill as she chirped, "How about some breakfast?" _Change the subject, Nyota, change the subject..._

"You will have to feed me." He wriggled his arms in the jacket to accent his point.

"Okay." She picked up the bowl of fruit and a fork.

"No-" He swallowed thickly and licked his lips in anticipation. "Please use your f-fingers." His own fingers flexed within the confines of the jacket, he wanted, no, _needed_ her long, elegant, skillfully dextrous fingers in his mouth. He had seen her work, she possessed an unnatural speed and fluidity in her lovely fingers, they spoke to what was left of his control. His own highly trained, very Vulcan hands were incredibly sensitive and they all but screamed to be free to touch her, to tangle with hers. As that was impossible, he would settle with living vicariously through her.

He was to be disappointed.

Nyota shook her head, bottling her response to his sensual request, and sat on full alert beside him - aware that she was operating within the danger zone. Keeping a firm grip on the fork, she speared a piece of star fruit and held it out to his lips. He tilted his chin up to snag the fruit from the utensil; his teeth glinted at they delicately took the food and his eyes were heavily dilated as they held hers. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed and his tongue darted out to lick juice from his lips. He repeated this with every morsel of food.

Nyota gulped, she had never fed a man like this before, it was unexpectedly sexy even with the fork and with every swipe of his tongue across his lips she felt her own temperature increase. Spock was still emitting a dangerous amount of pheromones and as she got down to the last piece of fruit in the bowl, the heady scent of him intoxicated her to the point of doing as he asked. Putting down the fork and bowl, she picked up the remaining chunk of melon and touched it to his moist lips.

Spock almost mewled with pleasure as he parted his lips and took not only the piece of fruit, but the tips of the fingers that held it into his mouth as well. The fingers slowly withdrew, the index lingering on his bottom lip as he held her gaze fast with his own. The fingers left him completely and he chewed the fruit rapidly, swallowing it down and husking urgently, "You still have juice on your fingers."

In a daze, Nyota lifted her hand and slipped her index and middle fingers between the lips that parted again to welcome them. This time Spock did moan and his eyes rolled back under fluttering eyelids as his tongue lazily mapped every length and crease of the fingers he had fantasised about since waking up three hours before her this morning. Nyota glanced down and noticed that he had swelled again, the lull of breakfast having done nothing to quell his need.

She gulped again. Spock's confession of his feelings the previous night, of something deeper than the shallow fuck-buddy status they had been operating under, had opened a door. Should she choose to walk through the door, their professional and personal relationship would be forever altered. But he was ill, delirious and acting out of character, it would be a bad idea indeed for her to take advantage of his loosened inhibitions and obvious desire for her. But as she watched his handsome face smooth from the tension that had contorted it, the pleasure seeming to reduce his discomfort, she was finding it increasingly difficult to resist.

Her fingers slipped from his lips and he closed his eyes to groan, "Nyota, I need you... _Please_..." His arms strained at the restraints as the sudden urge to embrace her close and bury himself forever inside her gripped him. "Untie me, let me have you, let me bond with you, let me claim you as mine-" he thrashed violently and yelled, "_LET ME SINK MY TEETH IN!_" He sagged in the chair and began murmuring to himself under his breath, not noticing that Nyota had bolted away from him as soon as he had started struggling again.

The rest of the day saw Nyota doing her damnedest to ignore him as he continued to beg her to untie him so he could slake his thirst for her. She tried to read, but ended up reading the same paragraph over and over again as he murmured filthy suggestions to her from his prison. She tapped into the communications array and attempted to listen to the white noise of space for a while - it usually had a meditative effect on her - but he started keening and rubbing himself against his trousers as his ardor rose another notch. She thought about contacting Doctor McCoy, but Spock would no doubt be mortified once he sobered up if she did; there was no way McCoy would not be able to hear the ardent noises Spock was making, even if she took the communicator as far across the rooms as possible.

So she sat. Uncomfortable, aroused by the unnatural amount of male pheromone in the air and unable to escape. At one point she became so frustrated by his non-stop entreaties and attempts to get her closer, that she moved into another room in his quarters and began to make an attempt at relieving her own tension. Spock - his senses heightened beyond anything she could have anticipated - had immediately stopped writhing in his seat and called out to her, "It would be so much better if you let me do that for you, Nyota." His voice was deep, seductive and almost sober.

She had almost caved.

At twenty three hundred hours she finally approached him and he suddenly fell silent, staring up at her with huge eyes as his breath shallowed. Perching on the stool that was still beside his chair from the morning, she slowly reached out and touched her index finger to the spot just below his chin that would allow her to tilt his face up towards hers. Gazing calmly into his eyes, she spoke softly, "I'm going to help you sleep like last night, okay?" He nodded eagerly and she ghosted a hand down his front to open the front of his trousers. But this time, instead of positioning herself on the floor and being clinical about the process, she gazed into his eyes, watching them flare as she touched him, unable to remain detached as his pheromones soaked into her skin.

"Nyota..." His breathy caress of her name could have fooled her into believing that he was almost in control of himself and he cried out, his gaze still holding fast to hers. He began to grunt and shudder, his eyebrows trembled, sweat beaded on his forehead and still he held her gaze. When he climaxed this time it wasn't with a bellow, it wasn't even with a cry, it was with a soft sigh of her name.

As he slipped into exhausted slumber, Nyota was left alone with her thoughts.

She didn't get much sleep that night.

*

On the final morning of their imprisonment together, Nyota panicked.

Running to the nearest intercom she slapped it hard enough to bruise her hand, paging Doctor McCoy. He was halfway through grousing his usual ascerbic greeting when she cut him off.

"Leonard, he won't wake up."

McCoy severed the connection immediately, those five words waking him up faster than an intravenous drip loaded with black coffee and was at the door to Spock's quarters one minute and thirty seconds later. Overriding the privacy lock, he burst into the apartment - blocking out the heavy male scent that cloyed the air - and hustled to the chair where Spock was awkwardly slumped and Nyota hovered, bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet.

"How long has he been like this?" He whipped out a tricorder and began scanning the unconscious Vulcan.

"I don't know. I woke up about ten minutes ago and when I went to wake him he wouldn't respond. Tears prickled her eyes and she choked, "Is he going to be alright?"

McCoy's eyes narrowed into slits as the tricorder beeped the undesirable results of the scan. "Not yet, but he will be; I need to get him to sickbay. He'll hate me when he wakes up, but he'll be alive."

"..._ Ny... o... ta_..."

The two humans jumped as the soft whisper issued from the slack lips of the half-dead Vulcan. Nyota, acting on instinct, reached down to touch his face; he stirred and weakly moved his cheek into her hand.

She swallowed, reviewing everything that had happened and the observations she had made over the last two days and met McCoy's incredulous gaze. "I know how to save him."

McCoy cocked an eyebrow and reached into his bag for a communicator so he could page sickbay. "And how are you going to do that, Doctor Uhura?" He flipped open the device and keyed in the emergency frequency.

She said slowly, "The Pon Farr..."

"Now wait just a minute!" His eyes shot wide open and his fingers froze in mid air above the communicator. "You can't be suggesting what I think you're suggesting? He could kill you, or worse, bond with you!"

Nyota smiled mirthlessly at his poor attempt at a joke. "I'm willing to take that risk, Leonard. Besides, we'll be at Vulcan in less than ten hours; if I can keep him alive until then the elders can un-bond us I'm sure."

"Nyota, honey," McCoy's voice was soft, touched by the lengths she was willing to go to save their senior officer, "I can keep him supported in sickbay until we arrive."

She tilted her head to indicate the steadily nuzzling Vulcan. "Look at him, Leonard, he's getting stronger just from touching me. Touching me - or rather me touching him - is what's taken the discomfort away for him while we've been here."

McCoy couldn't help but raise a suggestive eyebrow, "I'll bet."

She continued, determined that this was the best option. "If drugging him was an option you would have done it before now. Let me at least try."

He watched Spock for a long moment as he continued to press his face into Nyota's fingers. Opening his tricorder again, he scanned the semi-conscious Vulcan, sighed heavily, closed the tricorder and slipped it back into his kit. He never could say no to her, and she appeared to be correct in her assessment of the situation; Spock's vitals were rapidly improving, seemingly from the contact with her skin. Leonard McCoy might have been one of the finest physicians in the fleet, but he was also a firm believer in allowing the body to heal itself whenever possible. If there was a way to save Spock without having to slave him to science then he was willing to attempt it. "Alright. You have an hour; if I haven't heard from you by then I'll be back down here with a medical team and a security detail."

The door closed behind him and he re-engaged the privacy lock. Nyota looked from the closed door to Spock. He was definitely getting stronger, this must be something to do with the whole touch-telepathy thing Vulcans had going on. Knowing now what she had to do, she went to work releasing the straps that held him immobile in the chair, then removed the jacket from his sweaty body.

Kneeling in front of him, she took his face in both of her hands and whispered, "Spock, I've untied you, I'm going to help you. Do you think you can stand?" He slowly grunted an assent, his eyes heavily lidded, and she rose to help him to his feet. Once he was upright he swayed dangerously, so she propped her shoulder under his to steady him. "We're going to clean you up, alright? You've been sitting in that same position for two days." He had been sweating heavily during the throes of his fever and Nyota knew that although he may not care right now, once he sobered up he would not appreciate it if he had stunk when they finally lay together if there was an option not to. He was calm at the moment so now was the best time to get him to do the mundane things like sanitise before the mindless lust took over again and robbed him of all but one of his faculties.

Between the two of them they managed to strip him and get him into the shower. He leaned heavily against the cubicle wall for the first minute or two and when he finally managed to muster the strength to reach for the soap he dropped it, his arms drained of all their considerable strength. "I-I cannot..." His head bowed in humiliation until small, feminine hands touched his wet skin. With a gargantuan effort he raised his head to discover that she had joined him, uniform and all, to help him bathe. If he had more strength he would have laughed. As it was, he relaxed and soaked up all the energy he could from her while she stroked hands, slippery with soap, over his burning skin.

He moaned softly; as his strength was returning, the fever was slowly reasserting itself and driving as much blood as it could down to between his legs. Her hands skimmed down in that direction and he gasped, biting his lip as she skirted around him and instead massaged soap into the dark curls at the base. "You're teasing me." He breathed out in a soft purr, unconcerned with sloppy speech patterns under the circumstances.

She wasn't teasing. She was terrified.

She knew precious little about Vulcan mating rituals, _no-one_ knew anything about them outside of New Vulcan. She wanted to help Spock, she owed it to him; if it hadn't been for his support she would never have been granted the Enterprise, but she had no idea what she was letting herself in for. She had already seen how strong he was, and she'd seen the fear in Leonard's eyes when she had told him that she intended to give Spock what he needed. How did she know that he wouldn't seriously injure her in the heat of his passion?

His voice was soft and timidly reassuring, "I won't hurt you..." and as his fingers closed gently over hers she realised that she had inadvertently transmitted her fear to him through the touch of her hands on his body.

He turned to face her and, bringing up his hands, he cradled her face to kiss her tenderly.

Intended to be a soft, reassuring kiss, it quickly deepened as Spock fell prey to his own body again. Staggering from the shower, Nyota's lips still held firmly against his own, Spock stripped her soaking wet uniform from her and wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, pulling her up off her feet and hard against him. She squeaked against him in surprise and he pulled back to pant into her mouth, "I am losing control, Nyota, I will try not to hurt you but- _ahh!_" She had shifted, her hip brushing his arousal and suddenly he was driving her backwards, pressing her against the nearest wall and growling as he possessed her lips again, his tongue driving deep into her mouth and swallowing her surprised cry.

Nyota's head was spinning, the fever had fully gripped him again and it was somehow trickling into her until she was clawing at him, her neatly manicured nails drawing blood as they gouged the skin of his shoulders. He pulled her off the wall and carried her to the bed, falling backwards onto it and positioning her over him. He released her lips to snarl, "Ride me," then buried his face in her neck as she did as commanded. No preparation was necessary, she had been aroused constantly for the last two days, plus the overflow of his fever into her had made her body ignite with a need that was as alien as it was intoxicating. She slid down onto him, drawing in a slow, deep breath as he filled her, the sweet stretch of muscle around him making her pulse trip and her instincts ignite.

Spock was lost. The fever in his body was searing him from the inside out, the fever in his mind had yet to be sated and the two combined threatened to drive him insane. Nyota _his_ _mate _filled his senses, her skin hot against his, her scent dizzying in his head and her heat around him bringing an intimacy they had not yet experienced. She started to move and he cried out, his blood boiling, his fingers tightening into her hips, urging, pleading, begging, demanding she move faster, harder, deeper, he cried out again and grazed his teeth against her neck, fighting against the instinct to bite down and mark her. His body snapped and he came hard enough to blur his own vision, screaming himself hoarse as he did so, but his mind continued to swell, to throb until it felt like his brain would explode. He erupted into her again with a cry, his body shuddering with it's second climax as she yelled out her own completion. He was still hard, his body still yearned, his mind still strained, he climaxed again, his empty sacs trembling with the effort to expel something.

Nyota juddered with aftershocks as Spock continued to writhe and pump below her. He seemed to be struggling to stop, his still-hard penis throbbed inside her again and he cried out in pain as his body tried to drain what was already empty.

"Spock?"

"Ny-Nyota... H-Help..." His hands came up from her hips to take hold of her wrists, they shook as he guided her fingers to his temples. Before she could complete the movement and make contact, his body convulsed hard enough to lift his upper half off the bed and his face contorted into a silent scream of agony as another dry orgasm tore through him. He fell back to the bed, panting weakly and releasing her hands as all the strength bled out of his arms. She felt wetness and glancing down she saw green fluid trickling out of her and onto him. With a lurch she realised that in the absence of semen, his body had taken to releasing blood instead. Something had gone horribly wrong. He shuddered hard, close to losing consciousness and still his body strove for more.

Holding back another zenith, Spock forced his eyes open and reached hands that trembled towards her face. "N...Nyota... I have to-" he squeezed his eyes shut and bared his teeth as another pulse of agonising heat threatened to kill him. He looked at her again, trembling with the effort of holding back. "I have to bond with you. Now."

She didn't hesitate. "Do it." Later she might regret it, but this was now and he was dying and if she didn't give him what he needed he _would_ die.

She leaned down to make it easier for him to touch her. His fingers immediately splayed over her face and he groaned long and loud, his eyes rolling back as a permanent channel opened between them. Her life energy flowed into him, swirled quickly through his mind, bringing warmth, benevolence and the sound of delighted laughter, tenderly healing the wounds it found before returning to her.

Her eyes had closed the instant he opened the link, but now, as something new and very different flared to life inside her, they opened to find him gazing up at her with so much gratitude that his eyes had filled and tears trickled pale, wet tracks over his temples and into his mussed hair. She blinked, she could hear him in her head, feel him in her core and he was still hard inside her. The frantic urgency of coupling in order to keep him alive had abruptly ceased, leaving them quietly regarding one another as his mind began to draw from the bond to heal itself.

She smiled and felt his mind smile with her. "Hello, Spock."

His voice was soft and reverent as he replied, "Hello, Nyota."

She kissed him with a feather light touch, smiling against his lips as he tentatively returned the gesture - he was still shy even after what they had just done.

She rose gingerly, letting his tortured flesh slip gently from her to it could soften and rest. He moaned softly, his eyes closing again, the pain that had wracked him shifting to delicate tendrils of pleasure as he left her body. He felt himself slipping steadily into unconsciousness as his mind finally settled and his body relaxed, having gotten what it needed. He felt more than heard her move around the room, opening his closet to find some clothes seeing as hers were ruined. She communicated briefly with Doctor McCoy, not realising yet that she was transmitting everything she was feeling to Spock, therefore unaware that he was basking in her rapidly blossoming affection as he fell into the welcome abyss of sleep.

* * *

Next time: The aftermath...


	6. Ramifications

**Another Path**

Chapter 4

**Ramifications**

By the time the Enterprise made orbit around Vulcan, Spock's mind and body were well on the way to being fully healed. The bond that he had formed with Nyota - and strengthened through further meditation and intercourse - had saved his life.

Slipping from the comfortable warmth of his new bondmate's arms, Spock moved quickly and silently so as not to wake her as he dressed. His mind was calm, his body soothed, but his conscience roiled and raged in conflict. Leaving her a note then making his way to the transporter room, he worked desperately to quell the doubt over what he had done. Nyota had given herself willingly to him and had confessed that she shared his regard, but he still could not feel innocent over the cause of the confession. Had he not entered his season at such an inopportune time, had they not been so far away for him to keep it secret, had he possessed a stronger quantity of Vulcan blood, this may never have happened.

Some would say that the events bringing them finally together in this way was fate, but Spock was not a believer in fate. He preferred to believe himself in control of his own destiny, but he could not honestly say - even to himself - that if it were not for the Pon Farr he would have told Nyota of his burgeoning feelings for her.

It was all too late now anyway. They had been cruelly denied of the curious exploration of what was blossoming between them; the monster that was Pon Farr had seen to that. It had thrust them together, possibly against both their natures; they would never know.

Arriving at the transporter room, he stepped up onto the pad beside Doctor McCoy who had been non too patiently awaiting him. The doctor eyed him, as if trying to work out what had happened once Spock and Uhura had left sickbay, and what it was about the stoic first officer that felt so different now. Shrugging to himself, McCoy returned his gaze to Scotty and tried not to bolt from the room as the questionably sober engineer gave the two men a thumbs-up before activating the transporter controls.

Materialising on the courtyard of the Earth Embassy, the two men were greeted by a small team of Vulcan healers. They hustled the officers into the katric ark, where Spock's katra would be closely examined and his healing completed. McCoy, as Spock's attending physician, was permitted to remain in the room as his charge was surrounded by ancient, berobed Vulcans. The old men circled the taller man, touching his head and neck while murmuring questions to him in their own tongue. McCoy had been asked to turn off his universal translator before being allowed to accompany Spock, so he did not know what the men were saying, but as Spock replied in kind his voice was calm and serene so McCoy was not overly concerned.

Once what seemed like a million questions had been asked and satisfactorily answered, the elders helped Spock into a ceremonial robe and guided him to sit cross legged on a meditation cushion in the middle of the room. Once he was seated and the men had finished fussing around him, they drew McCoy out of the room with them, leaving Spock alone with the senior healer.

Spock relaxed into the cushion as the senior healer moved behind him and laid his fingertips against Spock's temples, the better to assess the damage. Despite their lack of audience, the healer spoke directly into Spock's mind out of respect for his privacy.

_/You have formed a bond and your mind is healed. And yet, I sense turmoil./_

Spock swallowed and made every effort not to transmit any more of his doubt to the healer _/The bond was formed as an act of desperation. I am undecided as to whether it should remain intact or whether I should ask that you dissolve it./_

Unseen by his patient, the elder raised an eyebrow_. /A mating bond is entirely logical, Spock son of Sarek. It will enable you to retain your sanity more easily during your next Pon Farr; I advise that you keep it./_

_/I am sorry to report, Elder S'kar, but I fear that this bond was not made entirely for the logical purpose of self preservation. There was an emotional intent attached to the instinct to form it./_

Spock could have sworn he heard a snort of amusement from behind him as the old man replied,_ /Mating bonds are often not logical in their source, but their use thereafter remains to be. It is not against the Vulcan way to care for one's bondmate, Spock./_

He could almost hear his Human half singing to the tune of I-told-you-so as the elder's words echoed in his mind. _/Would there be any undue side effects if the bond were dissolved? While I can justify its existence logically, I cannot ethically support what I have done./_

_/It is uncommon for mating bonds to be released, Spock son of Sarek, and I have never been one to do so. I'm afraid that leaves me ill-equiped to advise you. However, there is another day in which you may make a decision before the bond becomes too strong to remove safely./_

Spock nodded_. /Thank you, Elder S'Kar, I shall speak with my Father and return to you with my decision before the day is through./ _The old man withdrew from Spock's mind and the younger man rose from the cushion. He gave a short bow of respect and exited the chamber.

Instructing McCoy to return to the ship, Spock took a transport to his father's dwelling, a modest building on the south face of the A'tja Mountain. One look at Spock's troubled eyes was all Sarek needed to see that his son was in turmoil. He ushered him into his private study, away from prying eyes.

Both men preferring to stand while they conversed, they moved to the large window that dominated the room and gazed out over the rocky landscape of their home.

"I have said to you before, Spock, that you have the power to choose your own destiny. What would you choose now?"

Spock's lips thinned and he stared out at the land spread before him, his eyes unseeing. "Logically the bond is sound; as Elder S'Kar told me, it would be a great help come my next season."

Sarek looked at him from the corner of his eye. "And yet?"

Spock sighed imperceptibly, his belly roiling in guilt. "And yet I feel I cannot absolve myself of the selfishness of my actions. Lieutenant Uhura and I had been enjoying a casual relationship before I was stricken with the fever; I took advantage of that arrangement to suit my own needs. While it may not have been an illogical thing to do, it was certainly not ethical. I have now bound her to me in something she may never have wished for even if we had pursued a deepening of our mutual attraction."

Sarek may have squirmed in discomfort at the topic of conversation at any other time, but his child needed his support now more than he ever had, so he fought the urge back. "Have you consulted with your wife about removing the bond?"

Spock whipped his head around to stare at him, surprise evident on his wide-eyed features, "My w-" He shook himself and reigned back on his small outburst; he had not thought of Nyota as his wife, but as the not-so-proud bearer of his mating bond she technically was. "I have not consulted with my... with Lieutenant Uhura. I left the ship before she awoke this morning."

"Hm." Sarek went back to examining the view.

**-UFP-**

Nyota awoke alone.

At first she sat bolt upright and panicked, her first thought being that Spock had not recovered at all and had in fact gone off on a mad, sex-crazed rampage through the ship. Then she saw the PADD he had carefully placed on the night stand for her to find when she did finally regain consciousness and relaxed.

Activating the PADD, she leant back against the bed's headboard and read the brief note:

_Nyota, I will be on Vulcan by the time you read this message. _

_Do not be concerned, I am quite recovered and will return to the ship once my business on the planet's surface is concluded._

_-Spock_

Smiling in relief and stretching lazily, she dropped the PADD back onto the night stand. Throwing back the covers, she rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. It was a good job that McCoy had signed her off from active duty until she reported herself ready to return, because Spock had given her a thorough seeing to and she could barely walk in a straight line.

Flexing her newly-acquired telepathic link, she frowned daintily when she couldn't feel Spock on the other end. Shrugging to herself, she stepped into the shower and set about making herself presentable. She probably couldn't feel him because he was planet side; maybe these bonds had a maximum range and he was out of it.

While she showered, an unfamiliar rhythm slowly emerged in her mind and she started to tap it out on her head as she shampooed her hair. Humming along with the beat, she quickly finished up and dressed.

Her stomach grumbled, punctuating a pause in the beat and she laughed to herself; breakfast would be divine right about now. Quickly stripping the bed down and throwing the used sheets into the recycler, she set off for the officer's mess, still humming softly to herself.

By the time she arrived at the mess, and the irresistible scent of bacon assailed her nostrils, she was positively ravenous, and failed to notice that the song in her head had stopped.

*

Spock returned to the ship in the evening.

Elder S'Kar had kept him in the katric ark for seven hours while he worked at dissolving the bond between the two officers. The old man had required support from his aides to leave the room once the deed was done, the amount of energy required to remove the bond had drained the poor healer. Spock had not fared much better, standing on shaky legs once they were finished and beaming back to the ship as soon as he had cleared the ark. Once he was aboard he returned immediately to his quarters to rest.

But the sleep that he so craved would not be so easy to attain.

Because Nyota was waiting for him.

Upon seeing her in his quarters he steeled his resolve and reminded himself that what he had done had been for the best. As he entered his living area, Nyota rose from her clearly uncertain seat on the firm, utilitarian sofa.

"Hello, Spock."

Nyota forced herself to stop shaking, she had been nervous about seeing him again since just after breakfast. Doubt and desire had been warring within her all day and now that he was here, the strange rhythm that had begun in the shower had returned. It beat loud and disconcertingly in her head and she had to blink hard a few times in order to focus on him. "Did you have a successful trip?"

Her voice sang within him and he swallowed; it would appear that this plan to return to normality would not be as straightforward as he had thought. "I did. We must discuss what has transpired." He gestured towards the sofa she had vacated. "Please, take a seat."

She sank back down and turned her body to face him as he sat beside her. "Did we do something wrong? Are you still ill?"

Every innocent query from her lips ramped up the tension winding tighter and tighter inside him. He took her hand to stop her entreaties and held back a gasp, as a shock of static jolted up his arm. What was going on? Had the severance not worked? Was the bond still in place?

"I am quite well, the healers on Vulcan were able to verify that my fever has fallen into remission and will remain there for the next cycle." Her relief was almost palpable and he took a deep breath before continuing with the painful part of this conversation. "Nyota, there is something I must tell you." Mustering all the logical cool he could, he met her gaze and held it. "I had the bond between us dissolved."

She blinked at him, the beat still drumming in her head. "I don't understand."

"I took advantage of your good will and of our arrangement."

She laced her fingers through his and looked down at their entwined hands. "You didn't take advantage of me, Spock. You needed me and I wanted to help."

His lips tightened. "By helping me, you were bound to me as my wife." Her eyes shot up to meet his in a similar manner as his had to his Father's upon mention of that term. "Vulcans mate for life, Nyota. I did not have time to inform you of this before I lost control of myself."

Her eyes dropped back to their hands and as she spoke her voice was softer than he would have expected it to be, "If Vulcans mate for life and you chose me, that has to mean something, right?"

He retrieved his fingers from hers and straightened before he replied in a neutral voice, "You were the logical choice."

The drumming in Nyota's mind abruptly stopped and she snapped a glare up to drill through his head, starting with his eyes. "Logical."

He inclined his head. "Yes."

Nyota stood, forced an equally neutral expression onto her own face and drew herself up to her full height. Managing to resist the urge to narrow her eyes at him, she could not help but spit, "I'll see you on duty." Her lips flickered, fighting back a sneer. "Good evening, Mister Spock." She spun on her heel and marched from the room, refusing to stop until she was back in her quarters.

Once she arrived in her rooms, she took a moment to stand in the middle of her living space, closed her eyes, breathed deeply and released the tension in her fisted hands.

Logical.

Had she really expected any outcome different to this?

Before the Pon Farr they hadn't been anything more to each other than a convenient, attractive outlet for work-related stress, and then they had only come together when _he_ had been unable to find the peace to meditate.

He had dictated everything. Had she ever really had a say in any of it?

**-UFP-**

Spock's plan to return his and Nyota's relationship to normal was not to be as straight forward as he had first envisioned.

Despite the severance of the mating bond, there remained lingering tendrils of telepathy between them. Elder S'Kar had warned him, before he returned to the Enterprise, that there may be complications with maintaining a clean break. The proximity of the two mates being the most important and unavoidable one. The last time a severance of this nature had been attempted, it had been on Vulcan, between two Vulcans and the two were kept in isolation for three months to be certain of the final result.

Spock and Nyota did not have that luxury. Two senior officers serving on a deep space mission aboard a star ship could not avoid one another for the amount of time necessary for the severance to become solid and permanent.

**-UFP-**

Christopher Pike's stomach was threatening mutiny.

An asteroid field was usually nothing to get excited about on the Enterprise, she would easily plow through with her trademark grace. However, on this particular occasion that legendary grace was nowhere to be seen.

Scotty, in his infinite tinkering wisdom, had decided that the gravimetric stabilisers needed, in his own words, 'tweaking'. Said tweaking required the main shield generator to be put on standby, but as they were in friendly space and would continue to be so for several days, Mr Scott assured the Captain that they did not need their full compliment of shields and that all would be fine.

Then they had hit the mother of all asteroid fields.

On reaching the edge of the field, Scotty's assistant head engineer had gone to turn the main deflector array back to Green, but something was failing to connect. Once Pike had finished yelling at his soon-to-be-demoted Chief Engineer, Scotty had cleaned out his ears and rigged a simple repulsor field around the ship. The only problem with this was that the repulsor was only enough to clear a safe path through the smaller asteroids, the larger ones had to be dodged manually. Sulu had cracked his knuckles in glee at receiving the order to navigate the field by hand, and had immediately set to the task of making the entire crew lose their collective lunch.

So here they were, being jostled through space by their adrenaline junky pilot who was thoroughly savouring the absence of the inertial dampeners that usually hampered his work. McCoy was up to his armpits in space-sick crewmen, and regularly contacted the bridge to tell them so, but Sulu clearly could not care less.

Pike scowled at the back of Sulu's head as the excitable pilot hunched over his control panel, muttering to himself and manipulating the controls with gentle fingers, like he was making love to the damn ship. Pike closed his eyes and wished not or the first time that he had accepted the admiralty that Command kept offering him. He swallowed back a wave of nausea; he was going to kill Scotty for this, and where the hell was Uhura?

The aforementioned communications officer paged him from the level seven long range communications array. She informed him that space traffic control at star base five had given permission for them to reroute from their original flight path and dock at the station for repairs to the deflector emitters. Pike sighed a silent exhalation of relief; Scott would be spitting nails at having to hand over repairs to another engineer, but as far as the captain was concerned the bristly mechanic was lucky to be keeping his commission at all. He thanked Uhura and signed off, just in time for the computer to chime the end of alpha shift.

Pike turned to Lieutenant Sulu, knowing that he would most likely have to physically prise the man away from his controls.

"Mister Sulu, you've done an-" he coughed into his fist, "-excellent job so far. Take a break and come back later."

Sulu did not move from his station and gave no indication that he had heard the order.

"Mister Sulu, did you hear me?"

Sulu's shoulders tightened and his fingers curled into the controls. "I'm fine, sir. I don't remind remaining here to work extra until we clear the asteroid field."

Pike hitched an eyebrow at the seated man's subtle indicators of agitation and glanced at the chronometer. "Sulu, that won't be for another seven hours, you can't pilot manually for that long without rest. Take a break."

Sulu hunched further over the controls as Lieutenant Folkes approached the pilot's seat, the female pilot cracking her knuckles herself at the prospect of flying the star ship manually.

"I'm fine, Sir, really; I don't mind working into Beta shift."

Folkes' face fell and she looked at the captain to watch his response to the borderline subordination. She attempted not to bounce on the balls of her feet in excitement, the chance to pilot the fleet's flagship in this manner was almost unheard of and she was having to rein back quite hard on the urge to simply shove Sulu out of the pilot's chair so she could have her chance.

Pike's expression did not change but his countenance darkened by several degrees and the officers nearest to him took an unconscious half step backwards away from him.

"You will take a break, _Lieutenant_ Sulu."

Sulu blinked, the captain's rarely called his bridge officers by their rank and those that he did, knew in that moment that they were in trouble. He shot up out of the seat as though someone had set fire to it. Whirling to face the captain and standing at attention - resisting the urge to kick Folkes as she slid into the vacated chair - he gazed steadily over the taller man's shoulder. "Sorry, Sir. I request permission to leave the bridge."

Pike relaxed a fraction and the storm cloud that had been gathering over his head dissipated. "Granted, Lieutenant."

Sulu shot past him and was almost to the door when Pike called back to him, "Sulu." Sulu turned gingerly, half expecting a stripe to be ripped from his sleeve.

Pike smirked. "Relieve Lieutenant Folkes in fours hours."

Sulu's face lit up in glee, even as Folkes made a disgusted sound from behind the captain's back.

*

Spock, having not yet returned to full, active duty, was meditating.

Doctor McCoy had ordered that the Vulcan work only limited hours until he was happy that his unique patient had fully recovered from his physical and mental trauma. Spock had done his best to continue the work that Elder S'Kar had started, by doing a little each day to smooth and fix the wound in his soul.

He was buried deep inside his own mind when the door chime sounded. It took a second chime for him to realise that the sound was not in fact a manifestation of the discord in his head. Drawing out of himself, he unfolded his long legs and rose, smoothing down his robes as he called out for the computer to admit whoever was waiting outside.

He blinked as his visitor entered the room.

Damn.

He should have checked before letting her in; she should not see him yet, the work was not yet complete and only when his own mind was healed could he go to her to heal hers.

"Nyota." _Lieutenant Uhura_, the correct form of address was Lieutenant Uhura. His voice had caught on the second syllable of her name. She had to leave, she had to leave right now; he felt his human half begin to panic.

"Hello Spock."

She began to approach him and he swallowed. Her perfume was subtle but he could scent it from here. Helplessly he drew in a long, slow lungful. He shuddered as his blood warmed and his heart rate picked up speed, his stimulated sense of smell transmitting tiny pleasurable signals through his whole body.

She noticed.

"Spock." Her voice had lowered, was nearly a whisper, her eyes raked over him, then dilated. She took a long breath of her own.

He took a step backwards.

He had to get away.

The severance had to hold, for the sake of their careers, their friendship, their very sanity.

She took a step towards him, refusing to allow him to escape her.

His iron-clad control was wavering. That last bastion of his unerring Vulcan logic was flickering like a dying candle as Nyota drew closer.

This was impossible.

The bond had been dissolved, yet he could feel it - or something like it - vibrating in the air between them.

As she stepped into his personal space, gazed up into his eyes and placed a hand on his cheek, he felt an impossible, illogical bolt of heat shoot through his center. He blinked, his throat tightening as his body - already attuned with hers - began to react to her proximity, to her touch. No-one touched a Vulcan uninvited, not without hand coverings, and certainly not on the face. Not unless they wanted one of two things.

Death.

Or sex.

He made a sound in his throat, it was low, quiet and completely involuntary as his instincts screamed for the latter.


	7. Fracture

**Another Path**

Chapter 5

**Fracture**

Of its own volition, Spock's hand rose into the space between their faces.

A facial muscle ticked and his jaw clenched tight enough to make his teeth creak as the hand he held with fingers extended before him shook. He knew what needed to be done but he fought it with every fiber of his being, knowing what it would mean.

She would be bonded to him and he would kill her.

They would join, become one in mind, body, heart, heat, sex and he would kill her.

His fingers twitched, itching to touch her face, to close the contact, to pull the trigger.

He had to have her.

He had to kill her.

His fingers twitched towards her face, about to close the gap and claim her life, when the lights abruptly dimmed and the grating red alert klaxon serrated the heated air between them. Chekov's voice sounded over the ship-wide tannoy - his accent heavy with tension - calling all crew to battle stations and all bridge officers to deck one.

The intensity of the moment between them thankfully shattered, Spock and Uhura bolted for the bridge. Spock, on his much longer Vulcan legs, got there first, just in time to be thrown to the deck plating as the first phaser blast impacted against the shields and disrupted the aether ballast system. Scrambling to his feet, Spock lunged for the science station and began reeling off damage reports while simultaneously rerouting power through available substations and running scans on the vessel that was attacking them.

On the main viewscreen, Chekov had superimposed a tactical schematic over the image of the enemy ship. It's exterior design was unfamiliar but the readouts at the science station were displaying some alarmingly familiar readings from the engines and munitions.

"Particle shields still inactive; energy shields holding at sixty percent." Sulu's voice was clipped and efficient, he was in his element under pressure.

"Keptin! She's cloaking!" Chekov's voice on the contrary was panicked, alarmed and as the visual shimmered and the ship vanished the young tactician's agitation was shared by all of the bridge.

The shocked silence that followed the ship's disappearance was broken by a soft curse from the Captain. He turned to face Spock, his eyes steely and unyielding. "Spock, report."

Spock did not need to consult his scan results again to verify the bad news. "Romulan, Captain."

A shocked murmur spread across the bridge. Members of the Romulan Empire had not encroached into Federation space for thirty years and for them to cross the Neutral Zone that separated the two territories now in an act of violence could mean only one thing.

Pike returned to face the viewscreen and tapped his lips with an index finger as he thought out loud. "What purpose did that serve? There was only one ship so it wasn't a vanguard and they wouldn't attack us for fun..." He eyed the tactical station. "Chekov, analysis please."

Chekov's fingers flew over his console and his eyes flickered rapidly back and forth over the vectors and angles that his instruments had logged during the brief fight. Finishing off with a small flourish, he pivoted his chair to face the Captain as he addressed him. "Their attack pattern was definitely one designed to be defensive, Sir. By my calculations, they were defending _this_ asteroid," he returned his chair to face his console and tapped the control to display his findings on the main viewscreen. The image that appeared was one of a mile wide piece of rock on the outer edge of the asteroid field that Sulu had dodged no more than twenty minutes ago.

Pike squinted at the serenely floating chunk of space debris and frowned. "Scan it."

Spock sat at his console, ran a quick series of standard scans and came up empty handed. "Nothing appears out of the ordinary, Captain. It appears to be a metamorphic composite made up of iron, carbon, silicone and magnesium, much like the other asteroids in this field."

"Could something on the surface be cloaked?"

"Possibly, however I do not need to remind you, Captain, that we do not have the capability to detect any sort of cloak." Spock rose to his feet. "That said, there is a theoretical method being debated at the Vulcan Science Institute, of detecting the emissions of a cloaking device, thereby offering an approximate location of said device. However, I do not advise remaining in the area for the amount of time that it would take to modify the scanners to make the attempt; there could be other cloaked Romulan vessels in the vicinity and we are still without our particle shields. One well-placed photon could cripple us."

Pike twisted his lips in thought. "Sulu, how long to star base five?"

Sulu checked his flight plan. "One hour ten minutes at impulse power, Sir."

Pike leaned over his chair to activate the intercom, "Pike to Scott."

_"Scott here, Sir."_

"Scotty, are we any closer to having the shields back on line? I'd really like to be able to go to warp right about now."

_"I'm afraid not, Sir," _There was the sound of clanging and irate voices in the background, the loudest of which was Ensign Keenser as he yelled at one of his minions in Badaki. _"Everything except the final phase relay has been fixed or patched, but the last gateway is jammed solid and I don't have the equipment on board to unjam it."_

"Very well. Pike out." He thumbed off the intercom and gazed at the screen again. He turned to Uhura, "Get me a line to Starfleet Command please; priority one."

Uhura nodded and keyed into the subspace network, requesting communication with Earth.

Nothing happened.

"Something is blocking transmissions, Sir; all I'm getting is static."

The temperature suddenly dropped for everyone on the bridge. They'd lost their lifeline, they were half defenseless and a step away from being sitting ducks in an unknown scenario.

It was executive decision time.

"Mister Sulu, back us up out of fallout range and divert all reserve power to the repulsers. Mister Chekov, arm photons."

Chekov jabbed at the controls with trembling fingers as the ship lumbered backwards, then flipped up the switch cover for the firing key. "Torpedos armed, Sir."

Pike waited for the nod from Sulu that they were clear. "Fire."

Two brightly glowing miniature stars streaked from the fore of the ship to slam into the drifting threat, exploding it into a hailstorm of rock, pebbles and dust. The repulsor field deflected the smaller pieces of rock, but one larger piece glanced off of the port nacelle.

Pike barked, "Damage report."

Spock's eyes skimmed the reports streaming into his station. "Hull breach on deck nine, emergency force fields are holding; no casualties."

"Mister Sulu, get us to star base five as quickly as you're able."

"Yessir." Sulu's fingers flew over the controls and the ship lurched away from the asteroid field and towards safety.

**-UFP-**

It was not until much later that Nyota found out what had happened in the asteroid field.

Once the ship had docked at star base five, Captain Pike had disembarked and headed to the base's communications array in order to find a secure link with Starfleet Command. By the time he returned to the Enterprise the deflectors had been repaired and they were fit to depart.

However, they were not continuing with the original mission.

Pike sat in the Captain's chair with his spine as straight as it would go and his face betraying nothing. "Mister Sulu, set course for Earth; warp seven."

Sulu, detecting the note of steel in the Captain's voice, knew better than to turn around and question him. Instead he exchanged a mildly bewildered glance with Chekov as he released the docking clamps and laid in the new course. "Course laid in, Sir."

"Punch it."

The four hour journey back to Earth was tense, the entire bridge crew could feel the chilly atmosphere emanating from the captain's chair. As for Pike, he sat at ramrod attention for the first hour, then relaxed and took to reviewing data on a PADD as the ship operated quietly around him.

Two hours in, he rose from his chair with PADD in hand and gestured for Spock to accompany him into his ready room. As the door closed behind them, Pike locked it and sat down heavily behind his desk. Steepling his fingers in front of his face, he motioned for Spock to take the seat opposite him.

Spock sat and waited for his captain to speak.

"What do you know about Romulan military operations, Spock?"

Spock allowed a slight frown to crease his brow, this appeared to be an illogical line of questioning. He found himself speculating on what the captain had discovered during his private communique with Command. "I am familiar with most of Starfleet's published works on Romulan strategy, Captain."

Pike watched him carefully for his next response. "And are you aware that the Romulan military has been making preparations to invade Federation space?"

Spock's face was that of a perfectly nonplussed Vulcan, but his heart stopped dead in his middle as a sudden band of fear clamped tightly around it. "No, Sir."

Pike rose from his chair and started pacing, his hands laced tightly behind his back. "That incident in the asteroid field was the last piece of evidence that Command needed to confirm that an invasion is imminent. Starfleet Intelligence has been building a dossier for over a year, outlining their belief that the Empire is preparing to strike. Command have been in possession of this dossier for several months but were unwilling to act on Intelligence's advice until something a little more concrete could confirm their suspicions." He stopped pacing and fixed his first officer with a steady gaze. "When we get back to Earth, you are to resign your commission and report to Starfleet Intelligence; they have requested you specifically on permanent assignment. You are not to inform anyone of your intentions or your destination; you will tell your loved ones that you are being assigned to a research base on Mars for work on a new long range sensor array. En route there will be an accident and you will be dead."

Spock raised an eyebrow. His innards had calmed down at the captain's cool and stoic delivery of his new assignment and for that he was grateful. But even he had to question Command's desire to have him terminated.

Pike grimaced at his misunderstanding. "Not literally, Spock. It's safer for those close to you to think that you are dead."

Spock nodded, then cocked his head. "And what of you, Sir? I gather from your demeanor that something has affected you and I doubt that it is down to my sudden reassignment."

Pike smiled mirthlessly. "I knew there was a reason why you were such a damn good first officer." He dropped back into his chair and sighed heavily. "They're promoting me to Admiral. While you're off in the field, I'll be pushing pencils around a desk all day."

Spock frowned. "As I recall, Captain, you once stated that wild horses could not drag you into admiralty."

A touch of amusement coloured Pike's otherwise grim smile. "Let's just say they made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

**-UFP-**

"_Mars?!_" Nyota was simultaneously incredulous and dismayed. Just as things were reaching a peak between them, he decides to up sticks and move to _Mars?!_

Spock nodded, continuing to pack his belongings into a flight case and silently lamenting the fact that they would soon be destroyed in the shuttle explosion that would fake his death. "It is an excellent opportunity, Nyota. The team will be developing new scanning technology that will revolutionize long range stellar cartography."

He had to make this sound normal, like he did this sort of thing every day.

He had to ignore the fact that his blood was burning through his body as it screamed for him to re-establish the bond between them.

Nyota leaned against a table as she watched him move around his quarters. Softly, she said, "I'll miss you."

Spock kept his back to her before daring to reply; he could feel the threatening sting of very human tears. To her that statement was a reminder to him of her affection, to him it was a reminder of what he had done to her.

It was also goodbye. "And I you."

She crossed the room and embraced him from behind, her long, slender arms snaking around his middle and her curves moulding to his back as she buried her face between his shoulder blades. His eyes fell closed and he touched her hands lightly in return where they met over his midriff. This should not have been difficult. Had he been fully Vulcan he would have been cursing the circumstances that brought them so close together, that had caused this turmoil in his heart. But he was not fully Vulcan.

He was part Human.

And he needed her.

Turning abruptly, he swept her up into a fierce embrace that lifted her off her feet and seized her lips with his. She gasped and he took that as an invitation to thrust his tongue hungrily into her mouth. He drank deeply of her lips until he felt lightheaded and she was crooning into his mouth.

Setting her back down on her feet, he drew back from her and brushed the backs of his knuckles down her cheek. His fingertips tingled in excitement as they passed through the air over her temples and his mind throbbed with want. He wanted to bury his mind in hers as he reclaimed her body, but he knew that if he did, she would see what was going to happen and try to stop him.

So he stopped.

Severing the physical contact between them, he smiled gently down at her, the first and last smile he would ever grace her with and she gaped at him before smiling back, a huge grin that split and lit her face.

By Surak he was going to miss her.

He picked up his flight case and stepped back, burning the image of her onto his retinas for as long as he could.

His parting murmur was soft, "Goodbye. _T'hy'la_."

And then he was gone.


End file.
